Evils of Truth and Love
by QuixiHubris
Summary: First, a disastrous thunderstorm. Now, a summer snowstorm. Blanche believes the secret to the chaos lies in the legend of the three great birds. To restore balance to the region, the team leaders must seek out the rampaging pokemon. The trap has been set for the members of Professor Willow's lab, and a sinister stranger knows just how to break the bonds of truth and love.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Howdy! If you randomly stumbled onto this fic, I recommend reading my two previous stories, which lead into but are independent of this story. Of course, you can jump right into the fray if you prefer! Here are the bare essentials of what you need to know: A month ago, a devastating thunderstorm destroyed part of Professor Willow's lab and resulted in a life-threatening injury to Spark. Blanche (whom I write as non-binary) managed to save his life, and the two have become closer friends, as you do after almost dying / helping someone not die. Candela has felt left out and is frustrated by the lab's slow recovery from the storm, to the extent that she's taken some lab operations into her own hands, leading to shenanigans and bitterness and a weird, semi-suppressed animosity toward her fellow team leaders. But in the end, friendships are strengthened, the lab is rehabilitated, and all seems well, except for a bizarre weather report that calls for a summer snowstorm…

§

The frozen weather descended on the town with the silent swiftness of sleep. First came the fat flurries of snow, falling steadily under the glow of the streetlamps, melting the moment they kissed the warm sidewalks and lawns. Then, the wind started to rise, and cold air rattled the trees and fringed the green leaves with frost. The snow fell thicker, coming in sideways, sticking to the ground that turned colder and colder with each icy gust. Fractals of ice expanded across windows. Shop signs swung with the force of winter winds.

Spark witnessed the stages of the snowstorm from the warmth of his dark apartment. As it started, he thought he was imagining things, maybe because he was recovering from an unseasonable cold, or maybe because he hadn't had a good night's sleep in the past month. Which was why he was awake at three in the morning watching ice form on tree branches in late August.

He used to excel at sleeping. He could sleep anytime and anywhere, even during the workday (much to Professor Willow's frustration). But in the weeks since a massive thunderstorm brutalized the town, rest had been hard to come by. When Spark closed his eyes, it was like he was back in the storm. His head echoed with thunder and pelting rain and the monstrous howl of the wind. The fresh scar across his back twinged with the memory of being struck by debris. If he managed to block out the invasive memories, they resurfaced in his dreams. In those nightmares, he stood alone in the face of the storm, overwhelmed by water and sound. He would see Blanche and Candela in the distance, watching him, waving for him to approach. His leaden legs would prevent him, and his friends would tire of waiting for him, and eventually, they'd abandon him to the elements. The panic never failed to wake him.

Something soft and warm pressed against Spark's calf. His raichu – Rutabaga – looked up at him with drowsy, curious eyes. Spark pointed at the view through the sliding glass door, and she noticed the accumulating snow for the first time. She perked up immediately, producing a few anxious sparks from her cheeks.

"Yeah, I know, this is bad," Spark said.

His communicator chirped, announcing a call. Spark unplugged the device from its charger and answered. Blanche's face appeared on the screen, their long, white hair lopsided and frizzy.

"I'm digging the bedhead," Spark commented.

If Blanche heard his quip, they chose to ignore it. "You should look outside."

"I _am_ looking outside, and I'm not liking it."

Blanche's brows shifted so slightly that Spark almost missed it. "I didn't expect you to be awake at this hour."

"You're awake, too," Spark accused. "Aren't you the spokesperson for the recommended eight hours of sleep a night?"

"I stayed up to watch for unusual weather reports. I know the one earlier this week was never verified, but more and more predictions of snow have been turning up. However, I, ah…" Blanche's cheeks reddened. "I fell asleep for a little bit, and woke up to this. Hold on, Spark. I'll bring Candela on."

Spark waited as the communicator buzzed. Candela answered on the very last ring, and her face appeared next to Blanche's as a dim close-up. She was clearly still lying down. A faint track of dried drool led from the corner of her mouth to her pillow.

"Why?" Her voice was low and rough with sleep.

"Wanna have a three a.m. snowball fight?" Spark asked.

"Wanna have a three a.m. broken nose?" Candela growled. "What's going on?"

"Look out your window," Blanche said.

Candela moaned and cursed and disappeared from frame. After a few seconds of silence, she reappeared on the screen with wide, alert eyes, all traces of fatigue gone.

"Holy shit," she said.

"I've been developing a theory. I'd like us to meet in the conference room immediately," Blanche said.

"Blanche, it's O dark thirty," Candela said.

"Could you really sleep through this?" Blanche asked.

Candela's face turned away, and the bluish lighting on her profile indicated she was looking out into the snowy streets again. "I guess not…"

"Then I'll see you both there," Blanche said, and disconnected.

Spark set the communicator down and rubbed warmth back into his arms. There was no choice but to turn the heat on, as weird as it felt to do so in August. His breath steamed in front of him as he spoke to Rutabaga.

"You don't know where I stored my parka, do you?"

§

The lab's conference room could have doubled as a walk-in freezer, and the plain walls and white, modern furniture made it feel all the colder. Spark pulled the collar of his coat tighter as Professor Willow tampered with a control panel at one end of the table. Willow looked to be the most exhausted of the lot of them. Every small movement seemed to require gargantuan effort, and his eyelids fought with all their might to remain open. The members of the lab had all been pushed to their limits to fix up the damaged building, Willow most of all. He'd watched his baby be destroyed, and had poured all of his energy into nursing it back to life. Spark's heart ached for him. He didn't need another crisis.

"There," said Willow, jamming his hands into his pockets to conserve heat. "It should start warming up in here. Go ahead, Blanche."

Blanche slipped their communicator into a port on the side of the table, and the tabletop lit up. A map formed, rising into digital hills and projected valleys. Spark resisted the urge to pass his fingers through the fake mountaintops of the range that grew in front of his place at the table. A layer of clouds materialized above the terrain.

"Last week, I sent you a report predicting a snowstorm on the way, but it never developed, and so was dismissed as a computer error. Since yesterday afternoon, more reports have been released by meteorologists, all conservatively predicting an unusual cold front. I monitored these reports through the night, as the meteorologists themselves couldn't provide an explanation for the cold air coming up from the south, apparently without a source or cause," Blanche said.

"And now it's snowing. I think we're all on the same page with that," Candela said.

Blanche silenced her with a sharp glance. "Yes, and I believe I know why. As you can see from the past and projected radar, the snowstorm is coming up from the south, passing over town, and if it continues on the same trajectory…"

The thick patch of clouds swirled and passed above the icon of the lab, dropping pixels of snow as it moved. The storm proceeded toward the mountain range in front of Spark. Blanche reached over the table and used a stylus to trace the path, leaving a floating blue line. The map reset, and new clouds formed in the west.

"Here is the path taken by the thunderstorm last month," Blanche said.

The dark clouds flashed fake lightning and rolled toward town. A funnel formed and touched down near the miniature lab, and Spark caught himself holding his breath. The storm system then turned north, joining the blue line Blanche had marked in the sky and stopping above the mountains. Spark impatiently waited for Blanche to finish tracing its path with a yellow line and breathed a sigh of relief when the clouds disappeared.

"Both systems should end in the same place, where the first storm broke up," Blanche said, rounding the table to stand over Spark's shoulder. They circled the tallest mountain in red. A label appeared at its base: MOUNT AKANOIR.

Candela leaned forward. "OK, and?"

"There was no reason for the thunderstorm to turn north. There's no reason for the present snowstorm at all."

"But you have an explanation?" Willow prompted, staring hard at the red hoop on the mountain.

Blanche nodded. "These weather patterns cannot have been conjured by atmospheric fluke. The only possible explanation is the wrath of the legendary birds Zapdos and Articuno."

Their audience sat in stunned silence. Every so often, some trainer in the world would claim a sighting of the extraordinary pokémon, but such claims were difficult to confirm. The legendary birds were elusive creatures, if they were actual creatures at all. People theorized they were spirits, or mirages, or mythological figments of the cultural imagination. Others claimed they were members of rare, particularly evasive breeds of flying pokémon, evolved to the point that they couldn't be captured. Spark believed in the original legend, that only one of each bird existed in the world, and he believed this because he'd seen one, and there could be no other pokémon like it.

"So, where's Moltres then?"

Blanche drew their head back a little, either impressed or surprised by Candela's casual question. "I thought you'd immediately disagree with me."

Candela shook her head. An intense gleam entered her eyes, the same sort of look she wore in the face of battle. "No, your theory makes sense. More sense than the winter wonderland outside our door, anyway. But if there are two of the birds, where's the third? And how does this theory help us?"

"Legends tell us that Moltres is the most prone to roam," Professor Willow said. He toyed with the control panel, and the circled mountain range moved to the center of the table and enlarged. "Moltres could be somewhere else entirely, not drawn to whatever brought the first two here, to Mount Akanoir. Or, it could be that Moltres is drawing the others there."

"If the stories we've heard are true, the birds are extremely territorial, and would not congregate outside of an extraordinary circumstance. However, they're also described in the old myths as eternally bound to each other, and sworn to each other's aid," Blanche said, taking a seat.

"I'd certainly call these storms extraordinary," Spark said. _And then some._

"Precisely," Blanche said. "I believe that Zapdos and Articuno have been rampaging through our region, searching for Moltres."

Candela finished Blanche's line of reasoning. "And if they're setting aside their territorial disputes to look for Moltres, it must be in distress."

"So, we rescue it?" Spark asked. His stomach felt full of squirming caterpies. This was all too unbelievable. The weather, the birds, the possibility of seeing that incomparably pokémon again, like he had as a child.

"We investigate it," Blanche said. "If that's agreeable to you, Professor."

The professor leaned back in his chair. His tired eyes passed over each team leader, and Spark sensed he was looking for something beyond what he could hope to see. He was too calm; they all were. Even Blanche was eager to dive into this crazy, impossible, probably irrational adventure. That wasn't like the cautious, skeptical Blanche he knew. And Candela… she pursued everything wholeheartedly, and had likely dreamed of just this kind of situation. But the intensity of her amber eyes was enough to heat the room, to fill everyone's hearts with fire. The intoxicating energy of the moment could almost make Spark forget his sleepless nights.

Willow smiled and crossed his arms. "Of course. Besides, I don't believe there's a force on this planet that could stop you from trying."

Candela whooped and pumped her fist in the air. Though Blanche's mouth barely moved, Spark could tell they were smiling.

Spark stood, unable to keep still with all the emotion charging in the room. "So, we leave in the morning, then?"

Blanche pulled their communicator from the table and permitted a rare smirk. "By dawn's first light, rain or snow."


	2. Chapter 2

The snow crunched under Spark's boots as he crested the hill that marked the northern edge of the village. Behind him, Trichroma Town was waking up. Lights appeared in windows, clusters of astonished townspeople shuffled onto icy sidewalks, totally underdressed for winter weather, their mouths slack in awe of their transformed streets. He hated to turn his back on them, but the night's snowstorm hadn't been like the disastrous thunderstorm the previous month. Only a few flakes continued to fall, and the snow underfoot was already melting and creating dirty patches of slush in the places that received the most morning light. The town would be fine, provided they didn't mind digging out their winter gear for a little while.

Ahead of Spark, the sun sat on the horizon and painted the snowy fields and trees in soft pinks and purples and blues. A broad band of woods sprawled between Trichroma Town and the Akanoir mountains, but it was nothing a couple hours of hiking couldn't conquer.

Blanche led the way toward the woods across a field that would normally be brimming with wildflowers, which were now bowed beneath layers of ice. Spark wasn't sure how Blanche was keeping warm, as they wore the same flowing, blue coat regardless of season. Candela, meanwhile, wore fluffy white earmuffs and red mittens that Spark recognized from her knitting phase. She picked up hobbies like most people picked up groceries, and often had a knack for them.

Spark worried that he may have overdressed for the adventure, as he lagged behind his friends, weighed down by the puffiest, most vibrantly orange parka that had ever been manufactured. Every step felt like stomping in his giant snow boots, which he couldn't see past his tightly-wrapped teal and yellow scarf, also a product of Candela's knitting kick. He'd even donned snow pants as an extra measure against the elements, and they swished with each clunky step.

By the time the group entered the woods, Spark was sweating and trailing Blanche and Candela by a good 20 feet. Blanche paused for him to catch up while Candela covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

"Sure you don't need a few more layers, Sparky?" she taunted.

Spark tugged the scarf away from his mouth. "I may have been too prepared."

A clump of soggy snow slipped from a branch above Spark and splattered on his head. He frantically brushed it off and jerked as a bit of ice somehow made it past his scarf and slid down the sensitive skin of his back.

"It's heating up out here. You should at least remove the snow pants before you cook yourself," Blanche suggested before continuing down the trail.

"You'll regret it when we're all dying of exposure later," Spark said. "You'll be so sad when you need a pair of snow pants, but you made me throw them away."

Blanche ignored the comment, and continued down the trail. Though removing one of the suffocating layers of clothing sounded appealing, Spark wasn't about to let Blanche be right. Maybe the temperature was rising, but he had a feeling that leaving the heavy clothes behind would be a mistake.

For the most part, they walked in silence. Blanche had suggested going on foot in order to pay close attention to anything unusual in the environment, and too much chatter would have been a distraction. Every so often, Candela wandered away from the trail to investigate a sound, only to come back emptyhanded. Spark was breathing too heavily from marching in his winter gear to strike up a conversation, so he admired the peculiar landscape instead. The thick canopy of summer foliage had prevented most of the snow from reaching the forest floor, but every so often, some would plop to the ground. At one point, Spark noticed a metapod clinging to a tree that had received a snow cap. He stopped to wipe away the snow as the bug pokémon observed him with a lazy eye.

"Keep up, Spark," Blanche instructed, and he hobbled along the trail after them again.

Spark's closest layer of clothing stuck to him with sweat, and he found it increasingly difficult to match pace with Blanche and Candela. He could stuff a couple layers into his backpack if he needed to, but he wasn't ready to concede defeat. So he plodded along as best he could as his friends moved further and further ahead of him.

Blanche and Candela rounded a thick stand of trees at a bend in the trail ahead, and they disappeared from sight. Of course Spark knew they hadn't vanished, but the panic still rose in his chest. He reminded himself that they were just around the bend, probably waiting for him, ready to tease him for insisting on his cumbersome wardrobe. But the panic persisted, tightening his chest, forcing his breathing into a dangerously quick, shallow pattern. This was ridiculous. There was no reason for the doubled pace of his heart, for the irrational fears that they'd leave him behind, that they were tired of him being a burden, always in need of looking after, being the weakest link in the lab…

Spark's lips and fingertips tingled from lack of oxygen. This was exactly like his nightmares. They were gone, and he was alone, and he couldn't hope to keep up. He couldn't get enough air. He slipped, caught himself with his knee and a flailing hand. He wanted to shout for them, even though the thought of crying for help embarrassed him profoundly. He reached for the pokéballs on his coat pocket, but his hands wouldn't obey him.

"Spark?"

With blurry vision, he saw Blanche and Candela's feet approaching him. The sensation of relief was equaled only by his sense of immense shame. Blanche's firm hands guided him back and into a seated position. They pulled the scarf from around his neck and unzipped the parka, allowing a flood of cool air to wash across his chest and chill his sweat-soaked shirt.

"I told you this would happen. Why didn't you listen to me?" Blanche asked. Spark couldn't meet their eyes. He was a problematic child being chastised by a parent. Mortifying.

"Spark, what's wrong?" Candela asked as she leaned over him.

"N-nothing, just overheated," Spark stammered, forcing his half-numb mouth into a smile. "Little bit embarrassed, that's all."

Candela offered him an arm, which he begrudgingly took. She easily pulled him to his feet and caught him as he swayed. They both laughed, though Spark's heart wasn't in it.

"Don't be embarrassed," Blanche said.

If only it were that easy. Spark fluffed his unzipped coat to circulate more air before he slipped out of his snow pants, which had been on top of his everyday clothes. He wadded them into his backpack. His heartrate still felt fast, but it was nowhere near the pace it had been before.

"Seriously, Spark, that looked like a little more than heat exhaustion," Candela said, helping him zip his backpack when his shaky hands couldn't manage it on their own.

Blanche's attention focused on Spark's face, and he tried his best to appear distracted by tucking his scarf into his coat pocket, where it definitely didn't fit and left a long tail hanging out. He knew that look. Blanche's expressions were subtle, fleeting things, but Spark had picked up on some cues during the time they'd spent together during the first week of his back injury. He recognized the uneasy concern that created tiny creases in their forehead, a minor downturn of their lips. And he hated it.

"It's nothing," Spark said, waving Candela off. "Don't worry about me. I was being a stubborn idiot. We should keep going."

Blanche frowned and took a step toward him, but he had already started down the trail, leading the pack this time. He made an extra effort to appear bouncy and energetic, even though all he wanted was to lie down somewhere out of sight for a while. He had to do all he could to not be a burden to his friends. He had to remain cheerful. There was no time for self-pity and panic. He heard their footsteps behind him, so kept his focus ahead.

The peak for which the Akanoir mountain range was named loomed above the group, and Spark caught brief glimpses of its icy surface through the branches of the trees. The tabletop projection had not done the formation justice. Its slopes were steep and jagged, reminding Spark of a fang. Where there wasn't snow, the exposed stone was a dark color that seemed to suck up light. Spark couldn't shake the menacing feeling he got from the place. There was a reason he didn't like training in those mountains, despite the promise of strong, hardy pokémon that thrived in such environments.

"Spark, slow down!" Candela said, trotting to keep up.

Spark hadn't realized that he'd been accelerating. "Oh, so first I'm too slow, and now I'm too fast? Make up your mind, Candela."

Candela responded with a fake laugh. " _You're_ the one who can't make up your mind today. If something's off, you know you can talk to me about it, right?"

"And me," Blanche added. They'd managed to close the gap without appearing to walk any faster than before.

Spark made a show of rolling his eyes. "You guys are making a big deal out of nothing."

"You've been acting weird," Candela said. "I mean, weirder than normal."

Spark quickened his stride intentionally this time. "I'm just excited! When have we ever gone on such a high stakes mission before?"

Blanche still didn't seem to change their gait as they matched pace with Spark. "True, but-"

"But nothing!" Spark interrupted, wondering if his tight smile was coming across as inauthentic as it felt. "I'm good! I'm happy! Everything is fine!"

Just as the last word passed his lips, something mechanical clicked, and the ground fell away beneath the group, dropping them all into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Candela's shoulder connected with the stone floor first. She tucked herself into a ball to roll her landing, but the impact was still rough. She felt herself slipping and rolling down a slope, but try as she might, she couldn't see anything around her. Her fingers grasped at the ground to slow her momentum.

At last, she stopped moving. She could hear rapid breathing nearby, and she crawled toward the sound of it. Her hand met something soft, and as she felt along, she decided it was an arm.

"Who's there?" asked Blanche's voice.

"It's Candela," she whispered, giving Blanche's forearm a light squeeze.

"Candela? Blanche? Are you OK?" came Spark's voice from the darkness.

She heard him crawling toward her, scattering a few loose pebbles in his wake. His hand touched her upper arm and stayed there. She reached her free arm around Spark's shoulder so her hand could rest on the nape of his neck. She sensed that they'd all connected, and she clung to that anchoring thought while she caught her breath.

"I'm OK. Bumped my shoulder a little, but…"

Spark's hand gently moved toward the shoulder, as if he instinctually knew where the pain was. She tensed as his fingers carefully investigated area, searching for a sign of dislocation or broken skin.

"Blanche?" he repeated.

"I… I'm a little disoriented," Blanche said with a quavering voice. They'd never been great with surprises. "But I'm uninjured."

"Good, OK," Spark said with audible relief.

Candela strained to see anything in the all-encompassing blackness. "Did we just get trapdoored by a forest?"

"It seems that way," Blanche said, and Candela felt them shift from a prone to a sitting position.

Candela unclipped a pokéball from her belt and called Flicker out. The ponyta materialized next to the huddled group in a defensive position, head lowered. His bright mane chased back the shadows several yards, but revealed no walls or ceiling, only a stretch of cave floor.

"Blanche, your cheek," Spark said, reaching a hand toward a scrape on their face.

Blanche modestly covered the irritated skin with their fingers. "It's fine. All things considered, we came out in remarkably decent shape."

"Yeah, it's great that we survived the fall into our shared grave," Candela joked, but even she didn't find it funny. She stood and massaged her sore shoulder as she looked around. "Is this a sinkhole or something?"

Spark stood next to her and frowned at a tear in the arm of his puffy coat that was hemorrhaging fluff. He tried to poke the stuffing back in while he spoke. "Whatever it is, somebody built a trapdoor into it. That click wasn't natural. Man, I just bought this coat last year…"

"Trust me, Spark, it's not that big a loss," Candela said.

"But I was going to paint a face on it and be a Jack-O-Lantern for Halloween," Spark pouted.

"I'm glad you're back to your usual antics, but we need to focus," Blanche said as they pushed themself off the ground and brushed dirt from their jacket. "We should follow the slope back up. Maybe there's a way to climb out."

Spark cleared his throat in a businesslike manner. "I brought my sandslash, so we can dig out if we need to."

"Good thinking," Blanche said.

Spark shrugged and seemed uncomfortable with the compliment. "Stroke of luck, really."

"No use waiting around here, then," Candela said, and she started up the slope.

"Shh!"

Candela hadn't been hushed by Blanche for a while, and she really didn't think she deserved it this time. "What now?"

Blanche held a finger to their lips and pointed into the darkness, where something metallic glittered with the light from Flicker's fire. As they watched, the object began to sway lethargically from side to side. Candela couldn't look away. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

A hypno followed the object out of the darkness, and Candela belatedly realized she'd been watching the swing of its pendulum. In the corner of her eye, she saw Blanche drop, followed by Spark. She opened her mouth to command Flicker, but it was too late. Her eyes closed against her will, and she didn't remember falling.

§

"How are you feeling, Candela?"

Candela didn't recognize the voice. It belonged to a woman and was cool and crisp and sweet, like biting into an apple. Her mind scrambled to get itself in order. She opened her eyes, and the world was hazy.

"What… where am I?" she asked, trying to sit up straighter in her seat.

"You're in my laboratory," said the woman, but Candela couldn't see her.

Candela squeezed her eyes tight and opened them again, clearing her vision. This was not like any lab _she'd_ ever seen. She was in a cave, illuminated by warm electric lights that had been strung along the naturally-formed, reddish walls. The area that she could see from her chair was relatively small, not much bigger than Professor Willow's office. In fact, the space very much resembled an office like Willow's. In front of her, a large stalagmite had been cut into the shape of a desk, complete with a computer and tray of paperwork. Shelves containing books and binders had been carved into the walls. Candela wiggled in her chair, which was plush and quite comfortable, in contrast with the rocky décor. She couldn't quite piece together how she'd arrived here. She'd been walking in the woods with Blanche and Spark, and then…?

"I apologize for my unorthodox welcome," said the woman.

At last, the stranger came into view. She was a small, chubby woman, with a dimple-cheeked smile and slim, glimmering eyes. Her straight black hair hung long in the front and short in the back, marked with the occasional silver streak. Her glasses were much too large for her cherubic face, and her lab coat was a bit too long for her and almost brushed the ground as she walked. Beneath the coat, she wore a black and red uniform that Candela wasn't familiar with, emblazoned with a single scarlet letter.

"Who are you? What's the 'R' for?" Candela asked. An alarm rang in the back of her mind. "Where are my friends?"

"Lots of questions, lots of questions, hold on," the woman giggled. She bowed as she introduced herself. "I'm Dr. Dillinger, and the 'R' represents my association with Team Rocket. Rest assured, your friends are safe, but I have no business with them. It's _you_ that I'm interested in."

Candela pushed herself out of the chair and glanced around the rest of the room. Various tunnels led out of it, all lit by the same type of electric lights. There was something cozy about the place, but she was still far from at ease.

"Team Rocket? Never heard of it. I'm flattered, but I'd feel much better if I knew where Blanche and Spark were," Candela said, letting her hand wander to her belt. She sucked in a sharp breath as she discovered that her pokémon had been confiscated.

Dr. Dillinger must have seen her reaction, as she immediately addressed the issue. "Oh, I'm sorry about your pokémon! I took them to our healing center while you were asleep."

"They didn't need healed," Candela said, not bothering to conceal her suspicion. "But it's not like I'd need them to kick your ass anyway. I'll ask you one more time: where are my friends?"

Dr. Dillinger grinned. "Now _that's_ what I love about you, Candela. Professor Willow always said you were a firecracker. Your friends are touring my facility. There's no need to worry about them. I'll take you to them, if you'd like. But first, would you be willing to talk with me for just a little bit longer?"

Candela's curiosity got the best of her. "How do you know Professor Willow?"

Dr. Dillinger bobbed her head bashfully and leaned against her stone-hewn desk. "You could say we were an item, way back when. But we went our separate ways when we each started our own labs."

Candela wasn't sure what to ask about first. She didn't fully trust the woman, but she was too intrigued not to have a conversation with her. Besides, she seemed about as dangerous as a magikarp. "You and the professor? When was this?"

"It was a long time ago," Dr. Dillinger said with a wistful sigh. "We were young researchers with differing views on the nature of pokémon. It eventually drove us apart."

"How do you know who I am? You said Willow talked about me?"

Dr. Dillinger sat on the edge of her desk and popped one leg over the other. She gazed at the stalactites hanging overhead, lost in recollection. "Though we were separated, we kept in touch over the years. He described his assistants to me, and you were always the standout. You understand the true value and strength of pokémon."

The scientist looked back to Candela with a grim smile. "But Willow gave me the cold shoulder when I merged my lab with Team Rocket, and we haven't spoken since."

Candela wished she had a way of taking notes. It was all too strange, and she worried she'd forget all the details. "What exactly _is_ Team Rocket?"

As Dr. Dillinger opened her mouth to answer, a hypno suddenly appeared from one of the hallways nears her desk. He sidled up to the scientist and leaned against her leg affectionately. All at once, Candela remembered the trapdoor and the swinging pendulum. Her initial fear turned to anger, and though she tried to hold back since she had no pokémon with which to defend herself, she couldn't contain her outrage.

"That's _your_ hypno? You knocked me out and kidnapped me?" Candela shouted, pointing at the offending pokémon, who blinked innocently at her. The details of her mission came back to her in a slow stream. The snow, Blanche's map, the legendary birds…

"Easy now!" Dr. Dillinger said, not looking nearly as alarmed as Candela wanted her to be. "As I said, I'm very sorry for the rough introduction! It's just that the research we conduct here is very sensitive, and so we have measures in place to keep unwitting civilians from stumbling onto our facility. It's for their safety, and for the safety of our experiments. You see, Hypno puts those who accidentally intrude to sleep, and then analyzes their subconscious via their dreams. That way, he can learn their motives. Are they coming to steal our research? Or are they merely lost hikers? He then transmits his findings directly to me."

Candela wasn't sure she heard that last bit correctly. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's all part of our research to expand the strength and capacity of pokémon. Hypno and I can share a certain psychic wavelength by using these," Dr. Dillinger said as she drew back a lock of her hair to reveal a metal diode on her temple. The hypno turned his head as well, displaying an identical device.

Candela stepped back. "That's impossible…"

Dr. Dillinger giggled. "You see now why we're so concerned with the intentions of intruders. Our science is cutting edge, and I'd like you to be part of it."

Candela couldn't process the offer. She had bigger concerns. "You… you were in my head!"

Dr. Dillinger slid off the desk and casually strolled toward a shelf full of thick binders. "Yes, well, I didn't mean to be. We're still training, Hypno and I. He automatically sends me information, even when I don't want or need it. But I didn't see anything that I didn't expect in you. I already knew you to be the strongest of your comrades, and understood the depth of your passion for pokémon. Glimpsing your subconscious merely confirmed that I need your expertise at my lab."

"Look, that's flattering and all, but I have an obligation to Willow," Candela said.

"Ah!" Dr. Dillinger found the binder she was searching for and pulled it from the shelf. She waved Candela to follow her as she lay the overfilled binder on her desk. "Why don't you look over some of our biggest projects before you decide? I'm afraid I have something to attend to before I can reunite you with your friends. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Candela kept a wary eye on the hypno as she approached the desk. The binder overflowed with pages and pages of charts, reports, and diagrams. As curious as she was, she couldn't imagine ditching Professor Willow for this chipper yet creepy stranger.

"Sit tight, Candela," said Dr. Dillinger as she and her oversized lab coat swished down a hallway. "I'll be back in the blink of an eye!"

"OK," Candela said uncertainly.

The hypno, rather than following his master, sat in the plush chair that Candela had woken up in. Just how much had he seen? If his job was to seek out intentions, then he surely knew that Candela suspected the legendary birds were nearby. Did Dr. Dillinger know as well? Why hadn't she mentioned it?

Candela sank into the doctor's chair to flip through the binder, trying to ignore the hypno as he polished his pendulum and stared at her with his dark, ever-watchful eyes.

§

 **AN:** Candela didn't sleep through her "Team Rocket Awareness" classes. In this little PoGo universe, Team Rocket is just beginning its rise to infamy and is a fledgling organization lurking outside of the public eye. Candela gets a pass for not knowing who they are. Kudos if you know where Dr. Dillinger got her name! I tried to keep it in true Team Rocket style…


	4. Chapter 4

Spark felt his way along what felt like miles of damp, cold, cave wall. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking. His communicator was gone, as were his pokémon. Though his eyes were as wide open as they could be, he saw absolutely nothing. He hoped it was just the impenetrable darkness of the cave, and not that he'd been blinded.

Every echoing drip of water or clatter of falling pebbles made him jump. He'd given up calling for his friends long ago, unable to tolerate the sound of his own voice bouncing through the nothingness around him. The walls were far too close, the air too still. Every so often, he had to pause to calm his racing heart and fend off the growing anxiety that electrified his entire body. The loneliness threatened to devour him.

When he heard a woman's voice ahead, he assumed he was imagining things. The voice couldn't belong to Candela, it was too mellow and sweet. Even though he didn't know the speaker and feared he was inventing the whole thing, Spark tried to follow the sound.

"Give up, Spark," said the sweet voice. "No one's coming for you."

"Who's there? Who are you?" Spark called in a weak, cracking voice. How long had it been since he'd last spoken?

"I'm someone who knows these things," said the voice. "You're making it worse for yourself by wandering around like this. It's best that you sit down and accept your fate."

Spark's hands balled into fists. "I think I'll pass on that, thanks."

"I'm sparing you from a far more gruesome end. These tunnels are dangerous. You could slip and die in agony at the bottom of a pit. If you're going to starve to death anyway, may as well do it without a shattered femur."

"Thanks for the advice," Spark said. He couldn't let this phantom voice shake him. Blanche had once told him the secret to escaping a maze: keep your hand on the wall to your left, and if you continue long enough, you'll find the exit. He pushed forward, trailing his left hand along the wall.

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," the unseen woman said in a sing-songy tone.

Spark's foot met with air when there should have been stone. His stomach leaped to his throat as he barely caught himself on the craggy wall before he could tilt forward into the abyss. He pressed himself, panting, against the wall. Once he'd caught his breath, he cautiously got to his knees so he could reach over the ledge and feel for a step down. When none could be found, he swiped at the floor until he knocked a stone loose and sent it tumbling down into the pit. He heard it crack against the bottom several long seconds after it fell from the ledge.

"Yes, that's the sort of femur-shattering pit I was talking about," said the voice. "I'd tell you to sit tight and wait to be rescued, since you're so experienced at being the damsel in distress, but as I said earlier, nobody is coming for you."

Spark stood back up, cognizant of the edge of the pit. "You sound like a super-charming lady, and I'd just _love_ to meet you face-to-face. Why don't you show yourself?"

"Leave the sarcasm to Candela. It suits her better," said the voice.

She knew Candela? Maybe this was a figment after all, something conjured by his lonely, terrified brain. Spark reached across to the opposite wall to start following it along, treating the pit as a dead end.

"You sure are mean for a hallucination," Spark muttered as he shuffled his feet along, feeling for changes in the terrain.

"Oh, I'm not a hallucination."

A bright light flashed into existence a few feet ahead of Spark. At first, the shock of being able to see something other than blackness forced Spark to close his sensitive eyes. He squinted through his eyelashes to see the floating face of a round-cheeked woman wearing large glasses. The light shone from a flashlight held under her chin, as if she were preparing to tell a scary story at a sleepover. Even with the ominous lighting, she looked too friendly to be starving someone to death in a claustrophobic cave system.

"Hello," she chimed, and the light went out.

"Wait!" Spark stumbled forward a few steps before remembering that he needed to be mindful of the fickle ground.

"Keep up with me, Spark," she said, her voice growing further away.

Spark could barely hear over the pounding of his own heart and his winded breathing. No, he couldn't panic again. Somehow, he'd managed to keep himself more or less together so far. His friends could be in danger. They could be counting on him! He had no choice but to keep going, despite the queasiness of his stomach and doubt in his heart.

"By the way, I'm sorry about what happened with Blanche and Candela," said the voice, a little closer now, and to his right.

Spark hesitated, but decided that she was egging him on. She couldn't be trusted, figment or not. He continued following the wall on his left.

"As if you aren't dying to ask what I mean," laughed the voice. "Don't you want to know what happened while you slept?"

Her face appeared no more than two feet to the right of Spark, and the glow of her flashlight illuminated a split in the tunnel. Spark lunged for the flashlight, but it extinguished, and the woman dodged beyond his grasp.

"So you _do_ have a little fight left in you! I'll tell you, I did _not_ expect your dreams to be as dark and heavy as they were. Your subconscious is an absolute mess. You're pretty screwed up, aren't you?"

Spark bit his lip to stop himself from speaking, though he desperately wanted to know what she was talking about. He'd told no one of his terrible dreams. Not even Blanche.

"You prance around as Professor Willow's mindless jester, little more than the lab mascot, hiding all those layers and layers and layers of anxiety and self-loathing. You know you can't measure up to the rest of them. And you know they're getting tired of picking up your slack."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Spark snapped, unable to stop himself.

"Struck a nerve, huh? I have even more insights for you, if you'd like," the voice offered.

"Can't you let a guy die in peace?" Spark asked.

She giggled right next to his ear, and though he swung his arm at her as quickly as he could, he still couldn't catch her.

"You'll like this one. All that paranoia in your head about how Blanche and Candela feel about you? Your instincts were right. They're sick of you. They left you behind because you diminished their chances of getting out alive."

Spark moved as swiftly as he dared along the wall, trying to evade her voice. His windpipe felt restricted and he pulled at the collar of his shirt as he walked. He needed to block her out. No more wasting breath on her.

The woman's voice came from ahead of him again, though he couldn't fathom how. He hadn't heard footsteps, and if he couldn't see, surely she couldn't either. "I saw their dreams as well. They feel sorry for you. They only feel obligated to help you because Willow claims to see something in you. But really, you were a pity hire. Everyone knows it."

"Stop," Spark whispered. He couldn't even keep his mouth shut. Pathetic.

"How many screw-ups does Willow have to fix for you in a given week? How many times has Blanche come to your rescue when your experiments go sideways? Candela has the right idea. She just laughs at you."

The light shone in his face, forcing him to shield his eyes.

"Are you crying? Oh, this is better than I could have hoped. Spark, you're too easy," said the woman. "No wonder they hate you. You're so simple, so weak. You'll die here in the dark, and they'll barely remember you. They'll be relieved to be free of you."

The light went out and Spark stumbled forward. His foot struck a stone ledge and he tripped, scraping the heels of his palms on the stone as he caught himself. As his hands explored the ground, feeling for a wall, he touched something soft. His trembling fingers closed around the lumpy, wool-knit scarf Candela had given him. It must have fallen the rest of the way out of his pocket and onto the wet floor. He rubbed his thumb over the holes and bumps of dropped stitches and tangled yarn. It had been her first project, and she'd been determined to make something specifically for him, knowing how cold he got in the winter. He pictured her cursing and throwing her needles, then doggedly picking them back, dedicated to finishing the project. Usually, she quickly got the hang of new hobbies, but knitting came with a steep learning curve for her. She didn't always stick to the activities she didn't naturally excel at, thanks to her stubborn perfectionism. But she persevered for Spark's scarf.

Spark reached over his shoulder and touched the raised scar tissue there. Blanche… how could he doubt them either? What kind of selfish, self-pitying jerk of a friend was he?

"You're lying," Spark said.

The woman's face appeared above him. "I'm sorry?"

Spark wound one end of the scarf around his fist, leaving a few feet of tail. "I don't know how you did it, but I believe you when you say you saw into our dreams. But you're lying about what you saw."

"A bold accusation from a dying man," said the woman.

"I guess I don't have much to lose," Spark said. "Since I'm going to die down here anyway, why not tell me the truth? What did you do with my friends?"

"Like I said, I didn't do anything. They abandoned you."

Spark clicked his tongue. "Wrong answer."

He whipped the wet scarf forward, and the woman's squeal and the tension in the cloth told him it had found its mark and wrapped around her ankles. He yanked it back, pulling her feet out from under her. The flashlight spun into the air and clattered to the ground, shining as if by design on the fallen woman, who was frantically trying to untangle her legs from the clinging scarf. Spark picked up the light and stood above her.

"You haven't told me a single thing I haven't already been telling myself for years. All it took was hearing someone else say it for me to realize how delusional I've been," Spark said, shining the light into her face. She cringed and tried to protect her eyes with the lapel of her lab coat. "Yeah, maybe I'm a bit of a screw-up, but my friends would never leave me behind. And I won't abandon them, either. So you're going to tell me what you've done with them."

At first, Spark thought the woman was crying, but then he glimpsed her smiling lips from behind the lapel. Something about her expression sent a surge of wrathful energy through his body, so much it felt like he was radiating light. His nails bit into his palms, and a great power welled within his chest.

"WHERE ARE THEY?" he boomed with a voice too large for his body.

The rocks quaked around them, and an incredible, infrasonic bellow resonated through the narrow passageway. It was as though thunder had been called from the depths of the earth by Spark's command. The vibrations unsteadied Spark, and he reached to for a wall to keep his balance. An earthquake? A cave-in?

The woman's face transitioned from terror to astonishment to a manic glee that seemed entirely inappropriate for the situation. She reached into her lab coat pocket and withdrew a communicator.

"Unbelievable…" she breathed as the shaking died away. "I was worried I'd been wrong about you. I almost feel sorry that I have to do this."

Before Spark could think to move, the woman kicked with her now freed leg, catching his ankle broadside. Spark gasped at the shooting pain as he fell back, the joint no longer able to support his weight. The woman moved with lightning speed, catching Spark by the arm and hurling him into the darkness. The beam of the flashlight briefly revealed the set of stone-carved steps Spark was hurtling toward before it fell from his hand and shattered on the ground.

He hit the steps hard and rolled down them, head over heels, until something sharp struck his temple. A moment of pain, then nothing.

§

 **AN:** I feel like I'm creating unrealistic expectations by updating twice in a day. This will probably not be the norm. Y'all are spoiled. Happy Friday. Sorry I'm determined to traumatize your leaders. (Also, thank you so much for your kind words and support! They mean the world to me!)


	5. Chapter 5

Blanche awoke to a glowing, crystalline world. Thick crystal columns and spires rose around them at wild angles, intersecting and exploding apart, melding together until they reached the circumference of tree trunks. For a few moments, Blanche couldn't move, so struck were they by the glimmering formations that surrounded them.

But spectacular as the crystals were, Blanche had no time to admire them further. They pushed themself off the cold ground, rolling the stiffness from their joints. They remembered everything. Falling through the trapdoor, the hypno in the dark, falling asleep before they could call upon their pokémon. They even remembered the small circle of metal on the side of the hypno's head. They'd only had a second to see it, but that was enough to determine it wasn't natural.

Spark and Candela were nowhere to be seen, but Blanche wasn't surprised. Whoever their captors were, they knew better than to imprison the three leaders together. Though Blanche already suspected they'd been stripped of their pokémon and communicator, they checked to make sure, and came up empty.

They turned their attention to the crystal chamber for clues. It seemed to go on forever to their right, but the hundreds of crystal columns overlapped with such frequency that it was hard to see far in that direction. There was enough space to pass through the crystal forest, but perhaps not comfortably. The crystals thinned out to their left, and the room narrowed into a dark tunnel, just tall enough for a human to walk through.

"If you expect me to scurry through your maze like a rattata in a lab, you'll be disappointed," Blanche announced, loud enough that whoever was monitoring them couldn't help but hear.

"Blanche, you put me to shame. You're even sharper than I expected."

A scientist (or so Blanche surmised from the dirty lab coat) with a warm smile and gentle features strolled out from behind a thick crystal tower. She carried herself professionally, though Blanche immediately noted her disheveled hair, crooked glasses, and muddied clothes. Blanche also noted the R-marked uniform beneath the coat, and a distant memory struggled to resurface.

"Dr. Dillinger. It's a pleasure to meet you," said the scientist, extending her hand.

Blanche ignored the invitation. "Joan Dillinger. I'd hoped we would never meet."

Dr. Dillinger withdrew her hand and shook it, pretending it had been singed by Blanche's words. "Oo-hoo! That's a bit rude, don't you think? I presume Willow has disclosed a little of our history to you? How much?"

"Enough to know that you're an unethical pokémon researcher who sold your soul to an immoral secret society," Blanche said.

"It won't be a secret for much longer," said Dr. Dillinger. She traced her fingers down a length of crystal, and the refracted light cast rainbows over her hands. "And your choice in adjectives has clearly been tainted by hearing only Willow's side of the story. I'm surprised he would go into such detail with you in the first place. You don't seem like the natural pick for someone to confide in. I suppose you excel at keeping secrets, though."

To tell the truth, Blanche _had_ been surprised when the professor opened up to them one quiet autumn evening about his old friend Joan. He'd been upset in that withdrawn, contemplative manner of his, and Blanche supposed he'd only chosen to speak to them because he'd wanted to process his thoughts out loud, and it didn't really matter to whom. His friend, he explained, was a brilliant woman, but lacked the conscience vital to a pokémon researcher. She had no limits, no principles, but Willow had always hoped she could change. Willow told Blanche that he'd had to cut Joan out of his life altogether now that she was teaming up with a seedy organization that mirrored her own misguided ideals. Team Rocket, that was it. Ambitious, explosive, lethal.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" asked Dr. Dillinger.

"I have no interest in talking with you. If you have something to say to me, get on with it," said Blanche. They scanned the environment, looking for a weapon, or a distraction, or anything that could give them leverage.

"Straight to the point. I like that." Dr. Dillinger reached into her coat, and Blanche braced themself. "No need to be so jumpy! You were right about the maze, but I think you had some of the details wrong. Here."

The scientist tossed something to Blanche, and they caught it by reflex. A pokéball. Resolute's pokéball, they realized as they inspected it.

"You're clever enough that you probably already know why you're here, but humor me a moment longer. Your genius is outrageously limited by Professor Willow's lab. To truly shine, you need a freedom that he would never permit you. But Team Rocket would never shackle you to an arbitrary code of conduct. Nothing stands between us and our scientific domination."

"I'm never joining you. I request you return my friends and my pokémon to me at once and let us go," Blanche said, tightening their hold on Resolute's ball. What was this woman trying to accomplish here?

Dr. Dillinger pursed her lips in a look of mild disappointment. "No, see, I'm not inviting you to join my lab. I'm telling you to. You don't have a choice here, Blanche."

With a whisper of scales over crystal, an arbok slithered down a column by Dr. Dillinger's head, spiraling slowly to the ground. Blanche prepared to release Resolute.

"Not yet," Dr. Dillinger said in a calm, almost motherly tone. "Blanche, I've analyzed the weaknesses of your teammates. They are faulty, ruled by emotion, imperfect. By finally eliminating emotion from yourself, you can transcend them completely. You would be the ultimate pokémon expert if you could free yourself from your emotional attachments and arbitrary definitions of morality. So, I'm going to help you take your first step to being a Rocket today."

The arbok coasted over the stone floor like a length of purple silk, light and effortless. Instead of coming toward Blanche, she angled toward the corridor that led into the vast chamber. She positioned herself behind a cluster of crystals, hidden from the dark passageway, but visible to Blanche and Dr. Dillinger. A million terrible possibilities flooded Blanche's mind.

"See this diode?" Dr. Dillinger tapped a small device on the side of her head, and Blanche remembered the matching one on the hypno. "I can transmit a command to Arbok with a mere thought. I'm telling her to pump a fatal dose of venom into anyone that passes her hiding place. So, your job is to stop anyone from passing her, by any means necessary."

Blanche held their pokéball up. "And this is for…?"

Dr. Dillinger smiled patiently. "As I said. Any means necessary. Your goal is to send the person who's about to enter this room back the way they came. But there _are_ some rules. You must not mention Arbok, or I'll have her strike. You must not use your pokémon against me, or she'll strike. You must not even mention me, or she'll strike. Ideally, you'll force this person back into the passageway by convincing them that they cannot follow you, that they should not follow you, that they should never want to see you again. You see, I can't have anyone thinking they can rescue you. Do you understand?"

Sweat dripped from Blanche's hairline. They understood perfectly.

Uneven footsteps sounded from the corridor, and Dr. Dillinger clapped giddily and slid out of sight of the entrance. "Now, if I'm not convinced by your performance, I'll take matters into my own hands and kill your would-be savior myself. So if you want them to live, make it a good show. And remember, this is for your own good."

Blanche glared at her horrible, grinning face, but they didn't have time to come up with a counter to Dr. Dillinger's gambit. They had to remain cool, not let her break their concentration. They focused on the corridor and the approaching steps, hoping they had the wits to keep whoever appeared alive through the scientist's mad game.

Though Blanche knew there were only two people who could come out of the tunnel, their heart still fell to see Spark limp into the light. His beloved puffy coat still hung from his shoulders, but it was torn and dirtied, much like Dr. Dillinger's. A small trail of blood ran from his temple to the base of his jaw, and he favored his right leg as he walked. But he still beamed when he saw Blanche ahead of him, and it felt like a knife in their stomach.

Spark immediately called out to them, trying his best to hurry despite the limp. "Blanche! You're OK! Right? I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. You always have your stoic face on, so it's hard to tell, and-"

"Stop!" Blanche shouted, holding out their hands.

Spark did, several feet away from the unseen arbok. The pokémon's tongue wisped in and out, tasting the air, judging the distance of her prey.

"What's going on?" Spark asked, his smile turning quizzical. Suddenly, his expression changed to alarm. "Is this your trap? Just tell me what I need to do. I'll get you out, and then we'll find Candela."

So, he'd been in his own trap. No. He was _still_ in the trap. Blanche swallowed hard and pushed down the heartache. Memories tried to break through their mental barrier, but they couldn't afford to linger on them. Spark singing a very loud, very off-key birthday song to them, even though it wasn't their birthday. Spark tucking a blanket over them when they fell asleep in the midst of a long night of data-crunching, and bringing them coffee and sweets in the morning. Spark leaning on them when he left the hospital after the storm, soaking up the sunlight, looking so joyful despite the sorrow Blanche had seen in his heart.

"I'm not in a trap, Spark," Blanche said, locking any trace of emotion out of their words. This was for Spark. They had to do this for him. He would suffer, but he would live.

"Great! Because I have been having a _hell_ of a time playing hide-and-seek with the world's giggliest psychopath, and I'm in desperate need of some good news," Spark said with a breathy, fatigued laugh.

That could only be Dr. Dillinger. The woman sure got around. Had she gotten to Candela yet? Blanche set aside the thoughts, knowing that one false move could mean the difference between life and death.

"You need to go back," Blanche said.

Spark tilted his head. "Go back? No, Blanche, there's no way I'm going back there. It's all darkness and dead ends. Have you explored that way?"

Blanche searched their mind for something to say, but saw the arbok lift her head and tense, as though preparing to dart for Spark. Dr. Dillinger was acting on her threat. Make it convincing, or else…

"You're not coming with me. Get out of here," Blanche said, louder than before.

Something changed in Spark's eyes and Blanche could see him physically flinch at their words. "Blanche… what are you…?"

"I can't carry you through this. You'll drag me down."

Even from several yards away, Blanche could see his breathing abruptly shift from slow and measured to quick and irregular. They were reminded of the moment on the trail, when Spark had collapsed. They kept their face as flat as they could manage.

"Blanche, please… please don't say that," Spark said, forcing a weak smile.

He stepped forward, and Blanche called Resolute from his ball. The venusaur appeared facing Spark, only a few feet from the waiting arbok. Resolute turned his head, watching Blanche, trying to understand what he was meant to do.

"Don't make me do this, Spark," Blanche said.

"You met her too, didn't you? The mad scientist?" Spark asked, taking another step forward.

Blanche glanced at Dr. Dillinger, who nodded permission. "Yes, I met her. She invited me to join her lab."

"She's making you act like this, isn't she? She gets in people's heads, Blanche, but she's not as all-knowing as she thinks," Spark said, his voice steadying again.

The arbok arched up as Spark hobbled toward the cluster of crystals. Blanche had to act immediately.

"Vine whip! Don't let him take another step!" Blanche commanded.

Resolute obeyed without hesitation. He must have heard the conversation with Dr. Dillinger from within his ball. That thought at least provided Blanche with a small comfort as his vines snapped at the ground in front of Spark.

Spark stopped, but didn't move back. "You wouldn't…"

"She was right about you. You've been a hindrance to me ever since you joined the lab. With her, maybe I can finally do something other than babysit you," Blanche stated. It took everything for them to hold eye contact with Spark as he processed their words.

"Please, stop talking like this. Whatever she's doing to you, we can overcome it!" Spark pleaded. He tried to hide his trembling hands in his coat pockets. "Just please, stop saying these things. I… I can't…"

Blanche had no choice. He wasn't going to hear them. If they were going to convince him, it had to be with more than words. There could be no coming back from this.

"Venusaur, again! His ankle!"

They saw the fear flash in his eyes the moment before the vine struck his injured right ankle. He cried out as it hit, and he fell to the side, where he curled in on himself to brace against the pain. When he had himself under control again, he forced himself to his feet, barely allowing pressure on the wounded leg.

"Blanche…" he started, but they didn't let him continue.

"Drive him back, Venusaur," Blanche ordered.

Resolute snapped his vines at Spark over and over, but Spark crossed his arms in defense, and the vines succeeded only in tearing the sleeves of his coat and knocking him back one small, clumsy step at a time.

"Harder," Blanche said.

Spark dropped his arms and met Blanche's eyes as Resolute wound up the strike. For that fraction of a second, the fear was gone from his face, replaced with intense focus. Blanche felt his eyes cut into them, searching for something far, far below the surface.

And then the whip cracked forward so fast that Blanche barely registered what had happened. One moment, Spark was facing them, and the next, he was sailing backwards, his head twisted to the side, his body limp. He hit the ground like a sack of flour, and for several agonizing seconds, Blanche thought they'd gone too far. Why had he dropped his guard? Why had he let Resolute strike him like that? Why wasn't he moving?

But then Spark pushed himself up, much slower than before. He'd been flung far enough back to use the corridor wall to help pull himself upright. His cheek was marred by a red, angry welt, and he kept his eyes to the ground.

"You… you really want this, then?" he asked in a low voice.

Blanche gritted their teeth. "Stop wasting my time and _leave._ "

Spark nodded, still unable to look at them. "OK. I trust you. Goodbye, Blanche. Take care of yourself."

He turned and, using the wall as support, limped back into the darkness of the corridor. Blanche waited, frozen, for Dr. Dillinger to make the first move. After a few minutes, the arbok slithered back into the shadows, and the scientist stepped out of her hiding place and sauntered toward Blanche as if she were approaching an old friend.

"And a decent actor, too! Blanche, you are simply-"

Resolute's vine knocked her back, slamming her against a sideways bar of crystal. Dr. Dillinger gasped for the air that had been knocked from her lungs as Blanche descended on her with the inescapable deadliness of an oncoming storm. They pinned her against the crystal to give Resolute time to cross the cavern and assist.

"I didn't even need a diode," Blanche said, their face as calm and blank as it had been for Spark.

Dr. Dillinger grinned up at them, but her shifty eyes betrayed her uneasiness. "See how much stronger you're already becoming? Just think of the baggage you're leaving behind with Candela and Spark out of your life. Especially that Team Instinct fuckup. How could Willow pick such a useless, pathetic, idio-"

A strange thing happened as Blanche's fist crashed into Dr. Dillinger's face. The impact seemed to explode across the cavern, rattling the crystal formations, shaking the very stones they stood upon. Blanche quickly realized it couldn't have been their punch alone that caused the quake, but somehow, it felt like the power behind it had come pouring out of their body and into the cave.

A sound like a thousand ringing bells, like a mighty wind through ice-laden trees, rose from somewhere deep below Blanche's feet. The power surged through them a second time as they remembered the cry of a pokémon they thought they'd never encounter again.

"Jynx! Blizzard!" Dr. Dillinger shouted.

"Resolute, come back!" Blanche cried, clumsily extending his pokéball. They couldn't risk him fainting to his type advantage.

Resolute vanished into the pokéball, but the attack hadn't been meant for him. Dr. Dillinger's jynx, called while Blanche had been distracted by the quaking, spread her arms and summoned an icy wind. Blanche covered their face, but it was too late. The ice caught them and threw them back, and the last thing they saw before they passed out was Dr. Dillinger's bloodied, smiling face.

§

 **AN:** Ugh, folks, I'm so sorry that I keep having pronoun slip-ups. Please do point them out to me (thank you, jaguarspot!)! Even when I reread and edit my work, they can slip by. As someone who doesn't fully identify as my assigned gender, it's especially important to me to remain consistent and get the hang of using neutral pronouns like they/them casually and comfortably.


	6. Chapter 6

Dr. Dillinger hurried through the network of access passageways that crisscrossed her subterranean maze, holding the sleeve of her ruined lab coat to her nose to stanch the bleeding. She prided herself on predicting human behavior, but that punch had been out of left field. It was thrilling to be surprised by someone, she supposed. Though it did smart something awful.

She hoped the blizzard hadn't been too much. She needed Blanche incapacitated, not frozen to death. It had been a rash move on her part, but the plan remained intact. She had Spark and Blanche where she wanted them, and the only remaining variable would be a comparative breeze.

Dr. Dillinger hesitated in front of the tunnel leading to her office, and the fiery team leader she'd left there. Perhaps not a breeze, per se. Candela's baseline emotional state was merely closest to the rage Dr. Dillinger required of the leaders for her experiment. Pushing her to her limits wouldn't take much, but surviving the aftermath could be tricky. She couldn't let Candela get the best of her like she had with the others, even though that had been to the key to unleashing Blanche and Spark's fury. She wasn't sure Candela had the same degree of self-control.

She really would make a great Rocket if she put in a little effort.

Dr. Dillinger entered her office cautiously so as not to alert Candela to her presence. Sure enough, the binders she'd left for Candela were strewn across the room and torn papers littered the ground. Dr. Dillinger's hypno was pressed against the wall by the tunnel entrance, visibly shaken but unharmed. She could feel his anxiety through her implant and was repulsed by it. She disregarded him for the time being and focused instead on the raging wildfire that was Candela, tearing through another binder at her desk, ripping through its contents with unbridled hatred.

"So, what do you think?" Dr. Dillinger asked in the sweetest, most innocent voice she could manage. This wouldn't take more than five minutes.

Candela slammed the binder shut and glared at her. "What do I think? I think I've never heard of such unspeakable horrors inflicted on pokémon! I think what you're doing here is morally bankrupt! Reprehensible! I think imprisonment would be too good for you and your repugnant so-called laboratory!"

"Hm, and I thought Blanche was the one with a fondness for vocabulary," Dr. Dillinger mused, checking her nose for more blood and finding it had finally stopped.

Candela raged on, rounding the desk with a fistful of graphs in her hand. "From what I've seen in just these few binders, you're responsible for the deaths of at least 200 pokémon…"

Dr. Dillinger couldn't contain her laughter. "200? Sweetheart, you've barely scratched the surface. You see Hypno over there? He's number 73 in his series. His stats are mediocre, his moves need improvement, but he was the only one to survive the implant. Beggars can't be choosers."

Dr. Dillinger could already see the air bending around Candela's body as her temperature rose. Five minutes had been a generous estimation. She had to keep pushing.

"Candela, you can't seriously expect to make groundbreaking discoveries without cracking a few eggs," Dr. Dillinger continued, mentally cuing her hypno to get in position. "What a naïve thought, but one we can rid you of. And anyway, perhaps there would be fewer, ah, _failed experiments_ if you were on my team."

"You won't have a team when I'm done with you," Candela seethed, and fire licked up her arms. They were tiny flames, but Dr. Dillinger hadn't expected much more than that. After all, Spark had flashed only a few tendrils of electricity and only Blanche's hands had shown signs of frost in the moments before they connected with their birds.

"I wouldn't make such threats toward your new coworkers. Do you expect to singlehandedly dismantle an entire organization?"

Candela tossed the graphs aside, just as clueless to her fire and her friends had been to their lightning and ice. "I won't be alone. Blanche and Spark will-"

Dr. Dillinger tapped her palm against her forehead. "Whoops! Did I not mention? I decided they were a too much of a liability, so I've had them taken care of. Bit of a spur of the moment decision, but what with the sensitive research here, I couldn't really send them back out into the world."

Candela choked on her breath. "What?"

Dr. Dillinger rolled her eyes. Time to get this over with. "They're _dead_ , Candela. I killed them."

Candela shrieked and sprang for Dr. Dillinger with the force of a volcanic eruption. The sound of her cry was larger than she could have produced on her own, and the office quaked with the tremendous noise. It was an inhuman sound that twisted Dr. Dillinger's gut and made her ears ring, but she braced herself, counting on her subpar hypno to act. Per her mental command, the hypno jumped in front of her and swung his pendulum. Candela stumbled, but the shaking only intensified, and the scream filled the room like a physical thing. Dr. Dillinger could feel the heat rolling off of Candela, and she stepped back. That worthless hypno was struggling to control his target, but how could she be surprised? She'd need to replace him, keep improving the mortality rate of the implants.

At last, Candela fell to her knees, fighting to keep her eyes open. The rumbling faded, as did the terrifying scream, and she slumped to the side, asleep. Dr. Dillinger pushed the hypno aside and stood over her, using her foot to turn her on her back. She even looked angry while she was unconscious.

"Did that feel cheap to you? I mean, Spark got me with his little scarf trick, and Blanche pulled that punch out of nowhere, and Candela just… fell asleep? Kind of an anti-climax, actually," she said, addressing the hypno only because he happened to be standing there. "Was it lazy of me?"

The hypno shrugged nervously.

Dr. Dillinger crossed her arms. "Hm. Well, whatever works. Certainly better than a busted nose, but it just doesn't make for good storytelling."

Her communicator chirped, and Dr. Dillinger read the message from her grunts in the Legendary Chamber.

"All birds are connected. Articuno and Moltres are non-responsive and appear to be unconscious, but vitals read normally. Zapdos is calm, but avoiding the use of its right leg. No visible injury. All appear stable."

"You know, Hypno," said Dr. Dillinger, sliding the communicator back in her pocket. "This is going almost too well, broken nose aside. Their connection is much stronger than I'd anticipated. Do you suppose I'll finally get a promotion and move out of this dump?"

The hypno shrugged again.

"No, you're probably right. Giovanni doesn't really hand those out. I'll just have to promote myself," Dr. Dillinger said. "And with the three legendary birds at my command, who's to stop me?"

The hypno cowered against the wall. Such a weakling, that one. Still, he'd done his job, and that was worth something.

"Come on," said Dr. Dillinger. "Help me move her. I want to be well prepared for Spark and Blanche to join us."

She scooped Candela up under her arms and the hypno lifted her feet. She was still hot to the touch, and Dr. Dillinger was surprised that her clothes hadn't been burned. Just another mystery surrounding the leaders and the legendaries, and Dr. Dillinger knew she would have plenty of time to study her new playthings after today.

The game was only beginning.

§

 **AN:** I was surprised by some extra writing time today! I'm trying to push out as much story as possible this weekend, because I have a busy week ahead, and don't know how regular I'll be with posting. Then again, I keep saying that and then manically turning out new chapters. Anyhoo, sorry this is a short one (and that Candela got a little short-changed thanks to Dillinger's impatience), but stay tuned for a return to the crystal cavern…


	7. Chapter 7

Spark sank down the wall of the tunnel as soon as he was out of sight of the crystal chamber. He pressed his cheek against the cool stone, trying to get some relief for the throbbing welt that had been left there by Resolute. If only he could soothe his wounded heart as easily.

It hadn't really been Blanche. Those words weren't really theirs. He had to hold tight to this knowledge, or he'd drown in his own vicious, cycling thoughts. They'd been forced to say those terrible things, to drive those knifelike words into him, and it was all because of that mad woman in the lab coat. He'd suspected as much early on in the conversation, but hadn't known for sure until the moment before the vine struck his face. Blanche's façade had slipped, as he'd hoped it would, and the shock and agony in their eyes gave them away.

And yet, for a few minutes, his nightmares had been real. Sure, it had felt pretty damn wonderful to stand up to crazy-lab-coat-lady back in the maze, but she'd definitely gotten to him. Yes, for a few minutes, he could hear how absurd his own insecurities sounded as they poured out of someone else's mouth, but that wasn't really new. He'd told himself a thousand times that his thoughts weren't always founded on reality, but that never seemed to stop them. And then to witness Blanche speak the very words his anxiety-addled mind had so often imagined… It had nearly shattered him.

"But it wasn't real," Spark whispered to himself, trying to swim against the rampant whirlpool of his thoughts. He couldn't be sucked down by them. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how devastating it was in the moment, the entire scene had been staged. Now that he knew that, he could act on it. He had to calm down and come up with a plan, for Blanche and Candela's sake. He couldn't stand the thought of them going through something like he'd just experienced, but that seemed to be the mystery scientist's game.

His introspection was disrupted by a distant, building rumble. Another earthquake? The walls and floor began to shake, and Spark covered his head as small stones broke free from the low ceiling. An otherworldly shriek filled the tunnel, at once discordant and musical. That couldn't be a pokémon… could it?

The tunnel quieted again, but the silence was quickly replaced by the distorted echoes of someone shouting, and then a roar of wind. Spark tensed, ready to race back to the room, but torn by the thought that if he showed up too soon, he'd ruin what Blanche had been trying to accomplish by driving him back. So he waited, excruciating as that was, until things were quiet again.

Once he was satisfied by the time that had passed, Spark hauled himself to his feet again and worked his way back toward the chamber. Each step of his right foot sent another spike of pain up his leg, but the ankle was still essentially functioning as an ankle should, and the less he thought about it, the easier it was to walk.

The chamber Spark entered was not the one he'd left. At least, it had changed so dramatically in the few minutes he'd been gone that it was hard to believe it could be the same room. Snowdrifts crowded the bases of the crystal columns, and the warm glow from whatever had been lighting the crystals had turned a cold blue beneath the layers of frost. It was as if Spark were seeing the inside of a snowflake. He snugged his tattered coat closer around himself and stepped into the snow.

The room sloped slightly upward, and as Spark progressed, the crystals grew larger and more plentiful. As different as the room was, he could picture clearly where Blanche had been standing. But where had they gone? Had they already pushed deeper into the room? That had seemingly been their intention before. Perhaps this was their maze, and the scientist had done something to the cavern to manufacture an additional challenge.

Spark paused to scoop up a little snow to hold to his face for the swelling. As he bent down, his gaze fell upon a scrap of blue fabric protruding from a drift. His heart felt ready to burst as he stumbled over himself to get to the bit of cloth. There was no mistaking Blanche's jacket. Spark shoveled the snow away with his hands, revealing more of the coat, and then a leg, and a hip. He frantically uncovered the rest of them until he reached Blanche's face, blue-lipped and slack, ice crystallizing on their eyelashes. The only evidence of life was the slight steam of their breath in the chill air.

Wasting no time, Spark whipped off his coat and began maneuvering Blanche into it. They were so limp and heavy in his arms, a stark contrast to their usual stiff composure. He wrapped the dry portion of his scarf around their neck and zipped the coat up over it to trap as much warmth as possible. He drew the coat's hood over Blanche's ice-stiffened hair and pulled the drawstrings tight around their face. Then, he pulled them as close to his body as he could, hoping to share his own heat with them. It was only then, cradling Blanche in his lap, that he realized he was crying.

He had to keep it together. They were alive, and Spark would do everything in his power to keep them that way.

"Blanche, can you hear me?" Spark asked, pulling away just enough to see their face.

Their eyelids twitched a little, and their lips parted. "Don't… don't touch me…"

Spark tried his best to ignore the voice in his head that was screaming that he'd been wrong, that Blanche really had meant the things they'd said before. "Blanche, it's me. It's Spark. You're OK."

Blanche's eyes cracked open, their usual sharpness dulled by the cold. "…Spark?" Their eyes shifted to his cheek. "Your face…"

Spark laughed and hoped Blanche couldn't see the remnants of his tears. "Yeah, now we're twinsies!"

"Wh… what?"

"You know, how you scraped your cheek when you fell through the trapdoor… It was a stretch. Forget about it," said Spark.

Spark could practically see the neural connections firing back up in Blanche's brain. Their eyebrows twisted up as they spoke. "I… hit you…"

"It wasn't you. Don't worry about it. Just focus on warming up, all right?" Spark rubbed their arm, trying to provide some heat from the friction, or at least help get their blood circulating.

Blanche shook their head. "No… no, I hit you. I… said…"

They started to shiver, which Spark supposed was a good thing. Better than being so far gone that their body didn't even try to heat itself, anyway.

"It doesn't matter what you said. It was that damned scientist, not you," Spark said.

"Dillinger," Blanche croaked. "But… it _was_ me. I said… those horrible things… I told you to…"

Spark interrupted them before they could get too worked up. "Her name's Dillinger? Huh, she didn't even introduce herself to me. How rude. Listen, like I was saying before, she can get in your head. I know you didn't mean those things. It's really fine."

"No, it's not," Blanche insisted, their voice strained and weak. "You… you believed me… when I said I didn't want you with me… I saw it in your eyes."

"For a moment, yes, I believed you," Spark acknowledged. He didn't like where this was going, but he had to reassure them. "But I figured it out eventually, and I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Dillinger messed with my mind before I found you, so I was ready to believe all kinds of crazy stuff. It's OK now, Blanche."

"No!" Blanche's voice cracked with the effort speaking louder. "You're not OK, Spark!"

"Is this still about my face? I hate to break it to you, but you're not exactly shipshape yourself."

Blanche shuddered and coughed. "No… stop joking around for once and tell me what's going on with you!"

"Trust me, nothing's going on," Spark said. The last thing Blanche needed was an invite to his pity party. It has his problem, and he'd deal with it alone. He wasn't about to burden his friends even more than he already did. "Stop worrying about me and focus on yourself. You're flirting with frostbite and you're already bosom-buddies with hypothermia. We've got to get you out of the snow. Think you can stand up?"

"You aren't... getting out of this conversation," Blanche said through a tight jaw as they struggled to sit up. They drew a sharp, panicked breath. "My legs… I can't… they won't move! I feel them, but I can't…"

"Calm down, it's OK. Maybe if we get you to the tunnel where it's warmer, we can-"

The ground rumbled again, preventing Spark from finishing his sentence. He curled over Blanche's body, shielding them in case the quake broke more of the ceiling loose. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the entrance to the tunnel start to crumble. Great, fantastic, exactly what they needed right now. Another phantasmal cry echoed through the cavern, but it was different from the one he'd heard before. This one was raw and guttural, and it made his head ache. He covered Blanche's ears from the outside of their hood until the sound died out.

Once he was sure the rumbling was over, Spark lifted his head to see the tunnel. It had collapsed in on itself, and he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had he still been in there.

"Forget the tunnel. The tunnel was awful anyway," Spark said. "You can't stay out here in the cold. We have to keep moving. Remember when you said you couldn't carry me through this?"

He regretted bringing it up as soon as he saw the anguish in Blanche's face, so he hurried on with his thought.

"Well, I figure maybe _I_ can carry _you._ "

Blanche shook their head again and tried to hold onto Spark to stop him from moving. "Spark, you can't… you're hurt…"

"My ankle's a little bruised, that's all," Spark said, trying to believe his own lie.

"Your back isn't fully healed… it can't take the strain of carrying another person," Blanche persisted.

"I need you to trust me," Spark said softly in an attempt to counter the anxiety in their tone. "I can do this."

"I _can't_ trust you when you keep lying to my face!" Blanche said, but allowed Spark to turn his back to them and position their arms over his shoulders. "The wound may be closed and scarring, but the damage was deep… you physically can't do this."

"Blanche, as much as I respect your chronic pessimism and utter lack of faith in me, I'm going to ignore you, so you'd better hold on tight," Spark said, and he hoisted himself and his protesting cargo up.

As per usual, Blanche was probably right. Spark grimaced as he tried to balance out the added weight without overburdening his ankle, and he wondered if he really could do this. But there wasn't a choice. If Blanche could stop worrying about everyone else for a second, they'd be able to see their own dire straits. They'd lost the ability to walk, and could barely manage to get a few syllables out without losing their breath. There was no time to sit around and hope that their condition would improve.

"Spark…"  
"You OK?" Spark asked.

"I'm fine, but-"

"But nothing! Let's get to hiking."

He stepped forward and sucked in a breath as the pain radiated from his ankle. All he had to do was ignore it and push ahead. He took another step, and it was easier. So he tried another, and another. Pretty soon, he'd made a pace for himself. Which was all well and good, until the crystal formations grew thicker, closer, more strangely angled. Spark bent to avoid one that slanted from the ceiling, and a sharp pang in his back forced him to freeze in place.

Blanche spoke in his ear. "Spark? Why don't we take a break?"

"We've barely moved, B," Spark said. "It's still colder than Dillinger's shriveled black heart in here, but there's less snow ahead. Just gotta soldier on."

Spark straightened up and pressed forward. The snow thinned, but the crystals became more difficult to avoid. This couldn't be an impassable room. Dillinger was certainly a sadist, but she was a sadist with a plan. After what she'd put him and Blanche through, she couldn't just be letting them wander to their deaths. There had to be something more.

"Where did all the snow come from anyway?" Spark asked.

"Dr. Dillinger used a jynx's blizzard on me," Blanche said. Their teeth chattered between their words, but they sounded less breathy than before. "It was after that earthquake. I could have sworn… never mind."

"No, what were you saying?" Spark prompted.

Blanche's arms tightened around his shoulders. "I felt like _I_ caused the quake somehow. It felt as though it came out of me. Then that cry… I recognized it. You'll think I've lost my mind."

Another brief burst of pain spread through the muscles of Spark's back as he circumvented a horizontal bar of crystal. He grunted and tried to cover the involuntary noise with a reply. "Try me."

Though he couldn't see their face, he could tell by Blanche's small, nervous sigh that they weren't sure what to say. "I… I think that was Articuno, and I think I've heard it before."

"You've heard Articuno before?"

Blanche's voice was muffled as they buried their face in the arm of Spark's fluffy coat. "I told you I'd sound crazy."

"You don't!" Spark said. "The earthquake thing happened to me, too. I felt all this energy rushing out, and then there was this booming noise, and it was like it had come straight out of my memory. It was the sound of Zapdos."

"You met one of the birds as well? Why didn't you say something?"

Spark leaned against a spire for a moment to take the pressure off his throbbing ankle. "Speak for yourself! I told absolutely everyone, but I was just a kid, and everyone knew I liked to tell stories. Nobody believed me, so I eventually stopped telling people. I started to think that maybe I _had_ made it all up."

"So you were a liar back then, too," said Blanche.

"It is _still_ hard to tell when you're joking," said Spark. He took a step forward, but his knee buckled, and he fell against another column to steady himself. With his arms stuck supporting Blanche's legs, it would be all too easy to face-plant.

"Whoa! Let's stop for a moment," Blanche said.

"No, I'm fine," Spark argued. "Just a little patch of ice. So what about you and Articuno? Why didn't _you_ say something?"

"I didn't want anyone to know," said Blanche.

"What?"

"It's difficult to put into words. The moment that I shared with it was so personal. I couldn't go around telling people," said Blanche, and their voice sounded distant, lost in recollection.

"I guess I understand, but- AH!" Spark's ankle had finally reached its limit, and he fell to one knee, using all his strength to keep Blanche on his back.

"Spark! Set me down. We've gone far enough for now," Blanche said. "Let me try to move my legs."

Spark said nothing, and pushed himself upright again. He could see a path ahead, and something dark beyond the next few layers of formations. They were getting somewhere, he knew it. He just wanted to get away from the damn crystals.

"Spark, what are you doing?" Blanche asked, tugging on his shirt to draw his attention.

"I just want to get you out of this room," Spark answered through his teeth. Everything hurt. His face, his back, his useless ankle, his entire worthless body. He staggered forward, the pain ripping from deep in his ankle all the way to his knee.

"No, _you_ want out of this room. It's warm enough where we are. I'm sure if we rest here for a little while, I'll be fine."

Spark couldn't stop. They were close to something, they had to be! He stumbled on, closer and closer to the darkness ahead, to what had to be the end of Dillinger's maze.

Blanche shifted as if they were trying to get down, but they were still too weak to accomplish anything. "Spark, stop! What are you trying to prove?"

Stars flashed before Spark's eyes and he felt himself falling. Everything went black and quiet for a moment, and then he was on the ground, opening his eyes, trying to bring the world into focus again. Blanche sprawled next to him, wincing and appropriately perturbed by being dropped, but with more color in their cheeks than when he'd found them. The shame sat in his throat like a stone.

"Blanche, I'm so sorry, are you OK?" he asked, reaching to touch their hand.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Blanche said. They propped themself up on their elbow and glowered at him. "Would you like to talk about what the hell just happened? Or was it just 'nothing' again?"

Spark hid his face with his hand. What had gotten into him? He'd been trying to help Blanche, not put them in greater danger. But, big surprise, he'd managed to screw everything up again. "I don't know."

"That's not enough, Spark. I'm getting tired of asking you what's wrong and watching you dodge your way out of an answer. If I weren't too cold to move any more than this, I swear I'd… I…"

"You'd what?" Spark peeked at them between his fingers. They were looking away from him, transfixed by something ahead. Spark followed their gaze to the great dark thing he'd glimpsed before.

Whatever was happening in this subterranean nightmare factory, it was bigger than Spark could have imagined.


	8. Chapter 8

In her dream, Candela was a child again, and her mother was pressing a cold pouch of frozen vegetables to the swollen lump on her brow from where the older kid had clocked her. The cold gave her a headache, but her mother had insisted. Candela was in too much trouble to argue about it, so she sat still on the porch step, listening to the drone of summer locusts.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" Her mother's voice had a low, rough quality to it that reminded Candela of river rapids. "Was it because of that boy again?"

Candela spat into the garden. She'd seen tough guys do something like that in movies. "Some big kids were throwing rocks at a metapod, and Spark got mad about it, and he told them they'd better stop. So they threw rocks at him instead, and he started crying, and it was really loud, and he didn't even try to fight back."

"And that's when you stepped in," her mother said. "You were trying to protect him."

"He was just being loud and annoying, that's all. I was just sick of hearing him cry like a big baby. So I punched one of the big kids, and then he punched me, and then the new kid ran off and tattled," Candela said, sneering at the memory of the white-haired child who'd just moved to the neighborhood and was already the biggest snitch on the block.

"Maybe the new kid had the right idea," her mother said, lifting the vegetable packet away for a moment to check the size of the lump. "You can't solve every problem with your fists, Candela. Sometimes that makes things worse. It was kind of you to want to help Spark, but-"

"I did NOT want to help him!" Candela protested. "He's an idiot, and I woulda punched him next if that other kid hadn't brought grown-ups into it. He's stupid and he's weak and I hate him. He's always doing dumb stuff like that and everything makes him cry. I can't stand him!"

Her mother looked angry for a moment, but then she softened up, and a sadness that Candela knew all too well entered her dark brown eyes. "He's a little like Joule, isn't he?"

Tears immediately flooded Candela's eyes, and she swatted her mother away. "He's nothing like Joule! I hate him!"

She fled from the porch, her sight blurred by tears, ignoring her mother's voice calling her back. She ran until her legs felt like jelly and her throat felt like fire, past the post office, past the flower shop, all the way to the hill on the other side of town.

Joule's hill. His favorite place to play.

Or, it used to be. Now, the broad, flowery hill was marked by an ugly white sign that proclaimed it to be the future site of the region's most advanced pokémon laboratory. Candela kicked the sign, which only resulted in a stubbed toe. She sank to the ground, and the wildflowers swayed over her as she wept into the dirt.

Spark was _nothing_ like her little brother. Joule was kind and sensitive and sweet, and he always wanted to help their mom take care of the injured pokémon that came into the pokémon center she worked at. He didn't care if the pokémon was a tiny, low level weedle or a mighty charizard; he loved and cared for them all. He cried a lot, but it wasn't like how Spark cried. Candela wasn't irritated by Joule's tears. She knew that his heart was too big for the world, and every hurt he saw was a hurt he felt.

But he didn't cry when he got sick. He smiled and he laughed, even when he had to go to the hospital, even when he lost his halo of dark, curly hair. He didn't like it when Candela cried, and she thought that was unfair. He did everything he could to dry her tears, right until the end, right until that last day with him.

He was five years old, and he had a smile like a summer morning, but the world favored the strong.

Candela sobbed until her stomach ached and her cheeks were raw from the tears. Joule. Like the word 'jewel,' like a precious stone. A treasure. Every day, she lost a little more of him, she thought about him a little less, and it made her feel sick.

No. Spark wasn't like Joule. There could never be anyone like Joule.

And then a wind unlike anything Candela had ever felt swept over her, knocking the flowers, scattering petals that fell and stuck to her wet face. The wind was sudden and hot and unnatural, and it startled Candela out of her melancholy. She stumbled to her feet, dizzy from crying so intensely, and looked wildly around for the source of the gust.

Although she had never seen it outside of the archaic illustrations in her textbooks, Candela knew without a doubt that enormous pokémon before her was Moltres. The legendary bird of fire had landed only a few short meters away, so close that Candela had to shield her eyes against the brightness of its flames. It towered above her, shimmering the air around it with its heat, staring at her down the length of its beak. She could feel its power rolling over her, so intense she could barely breathe.

And she woke up.

The hypno sat across from her in the shadows, watching. Candela moved to stand up, but found that she was bound to a stone seat, metal cuffs trapping her wrists on rock-hewn armrests. She rattled against the restraints and tried to kick her legs, but discovered them to be cuffed as well. All she could see was the hypno and herself within a small circle of light coming from somewhere behind her. The rest of the room lay in total, impenetrable darkness.

She fixed the hypno with a seething glare. "What? You weren't hungry enough to eat that dream? Was it not up to your standards?"

The hypno looked away, and Candela felt briefly guilty. If dreams had flavors, she was sure that one would be bitter. She had that dream every so often, an inescapable memory that replayed even when she knew she was dreaming. She hated reliving the agony of that first year without Joule. Even the spectacular memory of Moltres couldn't ease the pain of it. No one had believed her. They accused her of begging for attention. When Spark claimed to have seen Zapdos a few months later, she'd lashed out at him for being a copy-caterpie.

Spark… Blanche…

Dr. Dillinger's words reverberated in her head. She'd been so casual, so completely uncaring, so bored. _They're dead._ _I killed them_. Candela's stomach turned. After seeing the horrific contents of the doctor's binders, she knew that madwoman had it in her. But she couldn't believe it. She couldn't imagine a world without them.

She couldn't survive another loss like this.

"Have a good nap?"

Dr. Dillinger leaned around Candela's chair and drew a long-nailed finger down her arm. Candela jerked, trying to escape her touch, but only succeeded in bruising her wrists. Dillinger chuckled and strolled over to her hypno. He flinched when she raised her hand toward him to pat his head.

"A dreamless sleep this time, huh? Hm, that's no fun," she said with a fake pout.

Candela met the hypno's eyes, but they revealed nothing. Had he just lied to Dr. Dillinger? Was that even possible? And if it was, why would he do it?

"Not so much fire in you anymore. Not much left to fight for, is there?" said Dr. Dillinger, frowning at Candela.

"Leave me alone," Candela said in a voice much smaller than she'd intended.

Dr. Dillinger clasped her hands together in delight. "Oh, my! I really scared you, didn't I? Hypno, do you suppose I went too far? I hate to see the mighty Candela in such a deflated state."

Candela wanted to be angry. She wanted to rage at the doctor for the terrible things she'd done. She wanted to find the strength to break free from her trap and break every bone in Dr. Dillinger's body. But for some reason, she felt completely sapped of energy. Dr. Dillinger was right. Without her friends, what did she have left to fight for? Her eyes bulged as she remembered.

"What have you done with my pokémon?" Candela demanded, gripping the ends of her armrests.

"Ah, the embers of passion still glow within you after all," said Dr. Dillinger. "Your pokémon are awaiting valuation."

"And what does that mean?" Candela growled.

"It means I'll deal with them after I'm finished here," said Dr. Dillinger, reaching into her pocket. Her smug expression vanished. Her hand darted into another pocket, and then she started patting herself down with both hands, becoming increasingly frantic.

She turned on the hypno, and the bruises that had formed beneath her eyes thanks to her broken nose made her all the more terrifying. "Where is it? What did you do?"

The hypno raised his arms to protect himself and backed up. The pendulum swung, but it was clear by his cowering posture that he wasn't intending to use it. Dr. Dillinger didn't see it that way.

"Don't you _dare_ hypnotize me, you worthless excuse for a pokémon," she said in a dark, venomous voice.

Candela pulled against the restraints, but she knew there was nothing she could do. She wanted to scream at the hypno to run, but feared that would only make things worse. She was helpless.

Just as suddenly as Dr. Dillinger's rage had appeared, it dissipated. She checked her posture, brushed a long lock of hair out of her face, and released a calm, slow breath. She smiled at the hypno.

"I apologize for my outburst," Dr. Dillinger said, and she sounded surprisingly sincere. "I've misplaced something important, and I'll simply need to retrace my steps before we proceed with your history lesson, Candela."

Candela turned her head and eyed Dr. Dillinger skeptically. "What history lesson?"

Dr. Dillinger threw up her hands in exasperation. "Yes, exactly. I suppose it's not critical, but I thought you'd find it interesting. We'll put a pin in it for now. Don't go anywhere, my dear."

Dr. Dillinger swept off into the shadows, her dirty lab coat fluttering behind her. The hypno turned to follow.

"Wait!" Candela squeaked. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but she wasn't ready to be left alone.

The hypno hesitated and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Please don't go," Candela whispered. "Please don't leave me here."

The hypno closed his eyes and continued after his master, leaving Candela alone in the dark with her thoughts.

§

 **AN:** 1) I formally apologize for the phrase "copy-caterpie." 2) Characteristics I share with Dr. Dillinger: chubby cheeks, a hypno as my favorite buddy pokémon, and a desire for everyone to suffer.


	9. Chapter 9

The end of the crystal maze broadened into a tall, shadowy chamber, and set into the chamber wall was an impossible door. Blanche estimated it to be 50 feet tall, but the top of it vanished into the black void above, so they couldn't be certain it didn't continue out of sight. Hundreds of intricate designs were carved into the dark stone. Humans and pokémon, plants, landscapes, cryptic designs and ornate patterns, a thousand details to drink in. The only indication that the enormous structure was a door rather than a stationary monument was the seam dividing it down the middle. Though the design indicated that the door should have been functional, the power required to move such titanic slabs of rock was hard to imagine.

Blanche and Spark sat about 20 yards away from the door, at the edge of the crystal passageway. They leaned together, supporting each other's tired bodies, Spark lending Blanche his heat. Blanche had finally warmed up to merely uncomfortably cold, rather than painfully cold, or fall-asleep-and-not-wake-up cold. Their hands and feet felt irritatingly tingly as they thawed, but they preferred that sensation to feeling nothing at all, as they had before. They flexed their sore fingers and tucked them beneath their arms, hoping Spark had been wrong to suspect frostbite.

The door had to be the start of a new maze or trap. Spark and Blanche had agreed on that point immediately, and so had decided to give the door a wide berth while they recovered their strength. As curious as Blanche was about the intricate carvings on the door, they weren't eager to set off whatever new booby trap awaiting them by getting too close.

"How are you doing?" Spark asked, nudging Blanche.

"Much better," they said. "What about you?"

"I want to sleep for about a century, but I'm pretty much OK," said Spark. He chewed his lip, choosing his next words. "Can we, uh, regroup for a moment? I'm still trying to put everything together, but my brain feels a lot like oatmeal right about now."

"I think that's a good idea," Blanche said. "We should go chronologically. It sounds like you faced Dr. Dillinger before I woke up. What happened?"

The muscles in Spark's jaw twitched. If his experience was anything like Blanche's, they knew it couldn't be easy to talk about. Still, they needed all the information they could get. Blanche risked losing some heat in their hands to take hold of Spark's.

"When I woke up, everything was dark," Spark said. "I could feel the walls of a tunnel close to me on either side, and I remembered your tip about keeping your left hand to the wall in a maze. I followed it along for… I'm really not sure how long I walked. It felt like ages. And then she showed up with a lame flashlight-under-the-chin stunt, which was a LOT scarier in the moment than it probably sounds now."

Blanche squeezed his hand. "After meeting her myself, I'm sure she can make _anything_ scary."

"Yeah, I'm not sure how she manages that, considering she has the face of a kindergarten teacher," Spark said. His light smile faded. "She tried to convince me that I was going to die back there, in the dark. She claimed that she'd seen into all of our heads, and after everything she said, I believed her."

"What did she say?" Blanche asked. When he hesitated, they added, "If you don't mind me asking."

"No, it's OK. I guess you need to know, right?" Spark drew a deep breath. "She said you and Candela had left me behind. And no, I didn't believe her. I mean, I did a little, but…"

"How could you believe her?" Blanche asked.

Spark laughed, but it didn't seem authentic. It sounded pained. Blanche hadn't meant it to be hurtful question, and wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't know, Blanche," Spark said, sounding defeated. "I get worried sometimes, that's all. I don't always feel like I'm… I don't know how to talk about this. This point is, I was scared, and I would have believed anything."

"We would never leave you behind," Blanche said firmly.

"I know, I know, but sometimes I don't understand that," Spark said, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. He turned his face away, trying to hide it from Blanche. "Compared to you and Candela, I feel like I'm a failure. I'm the weakest link at the lab. I didn't even know how to conduct a proper experiment until you taught me, and I'm supposed to be a researcher! I studied for this, but I'm still the one accidentally losing data files or setting equipment on fire or begging for help with statistical analysis. I'm an embarrassment and a burden, and maybe it would be better if I weren't dragging you down all the time."

"That's… that's not true at all," Blanche said. They'd known Spark had a few insecurities to sort through ever since the events of the thunderstorm, but this exceeded their suspicions. He wasn't kidding around or exaggerating, that much was clear by his discomfort and averted eyes. He really felt like this, and Blanche couldn't believe they'd been so blindsided by it.

"I shouldn't have said anything." Spark cleared his throat and proceeded to backpedal. "It's not a big deal or anything, but I'm a little touchy about it, and somehow Dr. Dillinger went spelunking in my subconscious and dragged up a great big bundle of ugly."

"Obviously, it _is_ a big deal, or you wouldn't have put us both in danger with your mad dash out of the crystals earlier," said Blanche. They felt him tense against their shoulder, and realized they might have come off too harshly. For all their analytical expertise, they still struggled to read other people, even their closest friends. "I'm sorry. I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't know what to do about it, or just how bad it was."

Spark pushed his hand through his hair, leaving it even messier than before. "Let's stay on task. Dr. Dillinger said she saw our dreams. Doesn't that freak you out a little?"

The moment of forthrightness had apparently passed. Not wanting to cause further injury, Blanche moved on. "It does. She showed me an implant on the side of her head that connects her with her pokémon. Remember that hypno that knocked us out? He had a matching diode. Dr. Dillinger must have used him to see our dreams, and then played on the fears that manifested in them. What happened next?"

"I eventually got sick of Dillinger's game and caught her off guard. Then there was this earthquake, and that weird feeling of power like you described. Then she kicked my leg and threw me down some stairs, and once I'd pulled my act together, I followed a path to the crystal chamber."

"Is that what happened to your ankle? Can you let me see it?" Blanche asked.

"After you tell me your side of the story," Spark replied. "What did the ever-charming Dr. Dillinger do to you?"

Blanche inspected their fingers as they spoke, relieved that the feeling had returned to them, along with their tan coloration. "She invited me to join her lab, and I declined. She's a member of Team Rocket, an underground criminal organization that Professor Willow once told me of. The two of them used to, uh, see each other."

Spark looked at Blanche like they'd lost it. "Come again?"

"We can come back to that later," Blanche said. "The point is that she knew about us and wanted me on her team. To keep you from pursuing me, she manufactured a situation in which she'd kill you unless I convinced you I wasn't worth saving. If she deemed me unconvincing, she would have used her arbok against you."

"And the only way you knew how to ditch someone as clingy as me was to use Resolute to vicariously slap me in the face," Spark said, laughing at what Blanche considered a rather unfunny joke.

"I thought it was the only way, and I didn't have time to think, and-"

Spark held up his hands. "Whoa! It's OK! I knew it wasn't you. You did what you had to do, and you saved my life. Again."

Blanche puffed warm air onto their hands and rubbed them together. They didn't want to keep reliving the scenario. They had to push past it. "Right. Now that I'm away from the situation, I've developed some theories. First of all, I don't believe it was ever Dr. Dillinger's intention to kill you."

"Really? Because it seems like my death was an option in, if not the goal of, both of her traps," Spark pointed out.

"But she didn't kill you. She pushed you as hard as she could, and then the earthquake happened. I don't think that was by accident," Blanche said. "I think that's what she did to me as well. She pushed me into a place of powerful emotion, and then I felt the earthquake. Based on the cry I heard during mine, I believe Articuno caused that quake, and Zapdos caused yours."

"Which means the third quake had to be Candela and Moltres," Spark said, resting his chin in his hand.

"When I met Articuno, I was in a similar position. It was a time of very strong emotion for me," Blanche said. They'd never talked about this before. The words felt strange and new on their tongue after having spent so long as an old story in their head. "I wonder if that's what drew Articuno to me in the first place."

"So, you're thinking that Dr. Dillinger knew we had some kind of… emotional bond or something with the birds, and she intentionally tried to draw that out," Spark said. "You know, Candela used to talk about seeing Moltres on the hill where Willow's lab is now, around the time her little brother passed away. I believed her, but one day she told me she made it all up. I never knew what to think about that. I'd almost forgotten." He turned to them, worry wrinkling his brow. "Blanche, she must be in trouble, too. We have to get to her."

"I know," Blanche said. "I think I have control of all my limbs now. Let me look at your ankle."

Spark planted his hand on the ground, as if preparing to move away. "I really do think it's just bruised."

Blanche grabbed his knee before he could try to stand. "Forgive me if I find it hard to trust you. Let me see it."

With a reluctant sigh, Spark rolled up his pant leg. Blanche slowly got to their knees, glad to find their legs could support them now, though they were still a bit tingly. They eased Spark's shoe off, noting the sharp hiss of his breath as they did. It was bruised, that was certain, but the swelling betrayed a deeper injury. Blanche pressed a finger into the inflamed joint.

"OW! I said you could _look_ at it, Blanche!" Spark exclaimed.

Good, it wasn't numb. "Can you move it?"

Spark grimaced and flexed the ankle in tiny increments. "Kind of… but not happily…"

"It looks like a bad sprain, but I can splint it," Blanche said, shrugging off Spark's fluffy coat. They positioned their hands on a section on the back and prepared to rip.

Spark caught Blanche's wrist to stop them. "Wait a sec! Two things. First: are you warm enough to dismember my coat? Second: hasn't my coat had a hard enough day as it is?"

"I'm only tearing part of it. There will still be plenty of insulation," Blanche said, immediately regretting the chill they felt upon removing the coat. "I'll buy you a new coat. I can't believe you haven't said it yet."

Spark tilted his head. "Said what yet?"

Blanche smiled as they tore strips from the back of the coat. Fluff spilled into their lap. "You've had all this time to say 'I told you so,' and yet you've held back."

Spark's eyes lit up. "Great stars, I forgot! You told me to lose the layers, and I said you'd regret it, and I was right! I _did_ tell you so!"

"You saved my life with your stubbornness, Spark," Blanche said, aligning the strips around his ankle.

"We really need to break the habit of saving each other from near death situations. It's getting exhausting," Spark commented. "Which reminds me… if Dillinger wants us alive, why does she keep almost killing us?"

"Hold still. This isn't going to be comfortable," Blanche warned, and started to wrap Spark's foot. "It must be a calculated move on her part. Or she's absurdly reckless."

"Or… OUCH, OK, you weren't kidding. _Or_ she already got what she needed from us. It's safe to say she has the birds somewhere in this mountain. Maybe all she needed was some emotional distress from us, and now we're just the leftovers of her experiment, and she doesn't care whether we live or die. Ah! That's a little tight…"

"I'm sorry, Spark, but I need to keep your ankle still before you do any more damage to it," Blanche said, though they did ease up a little, not wanting to cut off his circulation. "I have a feeling that she doesn't want us dead. She must be building up to something."

"Like whatever's on the other side of that giant door? That sort of something?" Spark suggested.

"Maybe," said Blanche. "Though I can't imagine what. However, given what we know of Dr. Dillinger, it's probably another trap, and Candela must be in the middle of it. There, you're wrapped up."

Spark helped them slide the coat back on, and Blanche relished the heat that was still trapped in it. They wondered if they'd ever truly feel warm again. They tucked their hands into the pockets of their own jacket, beneath Spark's, and remembered the object they'd hidden there before the jynx attacked.

"Then we need to get moving," Spark said. He gingerly maneuvered his bandaged foot into place and stood, wincing as he put pressure on it. He offered Blanche an arm, and they took, though tried to rely on it as little as possible as they got up. Their legs felt heavy and clumsy, and they had to balance themself against Spark, but at least they were upright.

"We still have a lot to talk about," Blanche said.

"I figured you'd say that," said Spark. "We can all have a deep, soul-baring chat once we find Candela."

"That, and also this," Blanche said, procuring the object from their pocket. It was three-sided spike formed of some kind of smooth, reflective mineral, about as long as Blanche's hand and tapering to a point at one end and a short pyramid at the other. They'd thought it was a crystal in the half a second they had to look at it before the blizzard. Now, they weren't so sure. It was much too precise, and the material was closer to obsidian than quartz.

"Where did you find that little bauble? And do you know what it is?" Spark asked, taking it from their hand to see it better.

"Dr. Dillinger's pocket, and I have no idea," Blanche said, and was pleased by Spark's look of admiration. "I got her pinned against a crystal after you left. I was reaching for the pokéballs she'd stored in her coat, but came up with this instead."

"You feisty, thieving scoundrel!" Spark teased, but then his face fell. "I'll bet she'll notice her thingamajig is missing."

"Probably," Blanche agreed. "So we'd better move, and hope this thingamajig can give us some leverage when she comes looking. Now, let's see about that door."


	10. Chapter 10

Maybe Dr. Dillinger had engineered the trapdoor. Maybe she'd designed Spark's labyrinth and provided the thematic lighting in Blanche's crystal obstacle course. But there was no way she'd made this door.

Up close, the amount of detail in the door's carvings boggled Spark's mind. Individual scales were etched into a school of goldeens that flowed in a stone river at the bottom of the door. A field of flowers, all perfectly unique and complete and crisp, framed panels depicting humans and pokémon and mountainous landscapes. High above, depictions of the legendary birds hung in perpetual flight, massive wings sprawling to the corners of the door. Tiny flecks of color clung to the shapes, remnants of paint. The effect of the door was staggering enough in monochrome, and Spark couldn't imagine the impact full color would have had.

"I've never seen anything like this," Blanche whispered.

"Yeah, I wouldn't exactly call this your everyday interior decorating," Spark said.

"No, I mean, this is archaic art, but it's unlike any ancient culture I've ever heard of," Blanche said.

They stood side by side, arms around each other's shoulders, each still acting as the other's crutch. Blanche trailed their hand over the arched back of a stone sandshrew, their fingertips never quite touching it, but clearly aching to.

"How many ancient cultures have you heard of?" Spark asked.

"Enough," Blanche said, and pulled their hand away. "I went through an intense ancient civilization phase as a child. It's passed into hobby since then, but I know enough to recognize that this art style is completely unique."

"Leave it to you to have an 'intense ancient civilization phase,'" Spark said. "I know it's a shot in the dark, but is there any chance this is staged?"

"None of the chisel marks are new, and some parts of the stone have been eroded. This has been around for a very, very long time," said Blanche. They stared at the carvings so penetratingly that Spark half expected the stone to crumble. "It's telling a linear story. Look at the flowers along the riverbank. They start as buds on the left, blossom in the middle, and wilt at the seam between the halves of the double door. It's reversed on the other door. You can read toward the middle from either side."

Now that Blanche had pointed it out, it seemed obvious. Spark followed the path of the story up the door, where more human figures appeared among the pokémon. The scenes were blissful, with frolicking eevees leaping at the heels of humans and venomoths circling a radiant moon that still retained some of its silver paint. Then the rows turned darker, with groups of identical human soldiers and armored pokémon marching toward the seam from both sides, forever poised to clash.

"A war," said Spark. There had been very few such events in the region's history, and any involving pokémon had taken place so long ago it was hard to believe they'd ever happened at all. Using pokémon as weapons of war had become unthinkable, and yet, Spark had the feeling Dr. Dillinger would disagree.

"Once again, it's not a war I know of, and I can't place that armor either," Blanche said. They must have been able to read the question in Spark's eyes, because they continued: "I was _very_ into ancient history."

"No kidding," Spark mumbled. "OK, so we have happy-merry good times down at the bottom, a war, and then…"

"A truce," Blanche filled in, pointing at a trio of human figures about a quarter of the way up the door. These three departed from the previous art style and were more abstract and impressionistic. One stood before the troops of the left door, another stood before the troops of the right door, and both clasped hands with the third, who stood in the middle, split by the seam. The flanking figures were armored, but the middle one wore a long robe rather than the garments of a warlord.

As Spark looked closer, a shiver ran down his spine. The figure on the left wore sharp, spiked armor, and had jagged hair to match. His more feminine counterpart to the right wore rounded armor and had short, wispy hair that rose like a flame. The ambiguous central character's hair fanned behind them, long and straight and still carrying a hint of white dye.

"Blanche…"

"I see it, Spark," Blanche said. "Maybe this is a setup after all. Another mind game."

"Seems a little elaborate, even for Dr. Deplorable," Spark said, rubbing the tension out of his neck with his hand.

"Keep reading," Blanche instructed, pulling Spark back a few steps to get a better angle.

The triptych above the truce scene showed the same trio sitting in tall, geometric thrones, crowned and regal and guarded by images of the three legendaries: Zapdos to the left, Articuno in the middle, Moltres to the right. These were smaller than their versions at the top of the door, but no less majestic. People and pokémon flocked around the thrones, dancing, conversing, smiling again. Many humans were paired with specific pokémon partners who appeared to echo their postures and expressions. The scene projected a sense of unity.

But then the story twisted again, and the royal three were divorced from their thrones. The people who had surrounded them before were now convulsing in agony, their bodies distorting, spikes sprouting along their backs, flame pouring from their mouths, all of them frozen in the midst of some kind of supernatural transformation. The pokémon had vanished. The Zapdos king clasped his head, doubled over as if suffering from an unseen wound. The Moltres queen reared back, her hands bent into claws, consumed by rage. In the center, Articuno's peacekeeper covered their eyes with one hand, and extended the other hand before them, offering something small and spike-like to an unknown audience.

"Is that… our thingamajig?" Spark asked, though he could see the answer for himself.

The color drained from Blanche's face. "Dr. Dillinger is still playing games with us. I don't recognize the two cultures shown at war, and none of the bird mythology describes royalty associated with them. I don't know how she pulled it off, but this is a hoax designed to confuse or frighten us."

"Well, it's working on both accounts, and I really don't like how this oversized comic book ends," Spark said.

The three legendary birds at the top of the door were not the peaceful guardians that had appeared in the throne scene. They were huge and predatory, their talons aimed at a large swirl of angular lightning, razor-sharp snowflakes, and curls of fire.

"Do you think it's some kind of joint attack?" Spark asked.

"I don't know what it is, but it doesn't matter. It's fake," Blanche stated before they lunged forward, breaking free of Spark, to pound their fist against the doors.

The action took Spark by surprise, and it took him until Blanche's third strike against the stone to stumble after them and grab their hand to pull them back. They struggled against his hold for a moment before relenting. Even after Blanche had stilled and regained control of their breathing, Spark kept his hands around their wrists, just in case.

"Easy there, fighter!" Spark said, still reeling from the mood swing. "You're supposed to be the levelheaded one, remember? Leave the emotional outbursts to me."

Blanche slipped their wrists away from Spark and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind their ear, grasping for some semblance of decorum. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"Don't worry about it. We're tired and stressed out of our skulls. And on top of everything, Candela's still out there somewhere, facing Dr. Dillinger on her own. It's a terrifying thought," Spark said.

"You're not helping," Blanche said.

Spark hung his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. Are we supposed to find a way to open the door? Because knocking didn't seem to work."

The ground rumbled, and Spark and Blanche grabbed at each other in preparation for another quake. This time, there was no thunder or otherworldly shriek, no rush of power. The cacophony of hidden machinery coming to life behind the stone rattled Spark's ribcage, and he held tighter to Blanche as the two halves of the door shifted. Dust billowed from the split, forcing them to cover their faces. With a bass growl of rock grating against rock, the sides of the door pulled apart, retracting at a slowbro's pace into the wall.

"Or maybe knocking _did_ work," Spark said, and coughed as the dust got into his mouth.

After several minutes of clunking gears and seismic vibrations, the room quieted. Spark uncovered his eyes as the dust settled and gaped at the chamber that had been revealed.

The door opened into a great hall, the kind that should have held nobility, the kind that must have once hosted balls and banquets. A dozen large, fire-filled chandeliers bathed the room in ominous, flickering light. Columns had been carved from the very walls of the cave to form a soaring, vaulted ceiling, each column utterly unique. One was carved to resemble a pillar of rushing water, another appeared to be a twist of vines and flowers, another was a patchwork of stone venomoth and butterfree wings… water, grass, and bug, Spark realized. They all reflected a different pokémon type. He'd only seen such majesty in the illustrations of fairytale books.

But the fairytale effect was ruined by the rows of machinery and wiring that had taken root at the bases of the columns. About 50 men and women in red and black uniforms and long white coats stood by their equipment, watching Blanche and Spark with cold, disinterested eyes. The soft whir of the banks of computers reminded Spark of Willow's lab. It was like the guts of his lab had been wrenched from his modern building and jammed higgledy-piggledy into this storybook setting.

Across the room, a massive curtain, black as a moonless night, hid the end of the hall from view. It drooped from the ceiling, and Spark pondered the effort it must have taken to secure it there. Granted, it created a dramatic, foreboding effect. What was so huge that it could only be hidden by such an enormous curtain?

In the middle of everything, as always, was Dr. Dillinger. She stood in the center of the hall, a crooked, hungry smile on her soft face, the bruises around nose making her eyes seem all the wider. Her coat hung off one shoulder, grayed and filthy. At last, she truly looked the part of a mad scientist.

"You have something of mine," she said. "Why don't you come in and give it back to me?"

"You have a few things of ours as well," Blanche said. "Why don't we trade and call it a day?"

Dr. Dillinger cracked her neck, and the pop made Spark wince. "You aren't funny, Blanche. If you're proposing to trade my key for Candela and your pokémon, you can forget it. Perhaps you've failed to notice how outnumbered you are."

The clicks of opening pokéballs reverberated off the smooth stone floor and walls. Several of Dillinger's scientists had released their pokémon, which were now stalking toward Blanche and Spark. Rather than retreating, Blanche stepped forward, into the hall. Spark followed, doing his best to disguise the severity of his limp. He counted a pair of weezings, an arbok, a golem, and three golbats. Of course, it didn't matter how many were there. One or two would be more than enough to contend with without his own pokémon playing defense. He hoped Blanche knew what they were doing.

"So, it's a key," said Blanche, calmly pulling the crystalline spike out of their jacket. Even with Spark's absurd orange coat on, they looked miles more together than Dillinger. They tested the strength of the key between their fingers. "Seems a little fragile."

"It's tougher than it looks," Dr. Dillinger growled. "Hand it over, and we can proceed peaceably with the experiment."

"99% sure none of us agreed to this case study of yours, so we're gonna pass," Spark said, angling himself slightly ahead of Blanche.

Blanche lifted the key above their head. Dillinger held out her arms, signaling the pokémon to halt their advance.

"A key that can shatter. A considerable design flaw," Blanche said. "Move any closer and I'll throw it to the ground. Use your pokémon to knock us out, and gravity will do the job for me."

Dillinger started to snarl, but then it shifted into her signature condescending smirk. "I'm sure you're both getting tired of the smoke and mirrors, so let me clear the air. I need that key, and I need you alive. I need both of these things or neither of these things. You break that key, I will break _you._ Give it to me, and you'll live to see your friend again."

Spark caught a change in one of the golbats' flight patterns. "We have a bad listener coming in on your 10 o'clock, Blanche."

Blanche jerked their arm as if to throw, and the golbat backed off again. "I'm done with games, Doctor. Give us Candela and our pokémon, and you can have your key."

Dr. Dillinger clicked her tongue. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I need the three of you _and_ the key. So that negotiation is off the table. I'll be honest with you. I'm seriously contemplating letting you try to smash the key, since there's nothing I can trade you for it. If you break it, fine. Decades of research down the drain. The loss of a previously undiscovered culture. I'll have to kill three people. Do you know the toll murder takes on a person? But it's what I'll have to do in order to clean up this disaster. And in the end, despite everything, Team Rocket will have three legendary pokémon, and Professor Willow will have three dead assistants."

"What undiscovered culture are you railing on about?" Blanche asked through their teeth.

Spark couldn't believe his ears. Even _he_ could tell that Dillinger was baiting them. Perhaps Blanche was stalling?

"I'm railing on about the lost civilization that's been sealed beneath this mountain for a thousand years, and you hold the key to their discovery in your hand," Dr. Dillinger said. "Didn't you see the door? We found it very informative."

"You mean the one with all the war and suffering and spontaneous transformations into monsters? We took that as a warning, not an invitation!" Spark said. He eyed the golbats again, but they kept their distance, as did the golem and weezings.

"Shut up and let the real researchers talk, Sparky-boy," Dr. Dillinger spat. "Blanche, think of the historical implications of this. To tell you the truth, I'm not all that into the lost civilization shtick. I prefer researching the capacities of human-pokémon relations, and I believe these people knew more about that than any living society. But I don't care for fieldwork. After this stage is complete, I can finally have my own state-of-the-art facility, and you can do my spelunking for me. Together, you and I could make unprecedented scientific and archeological strides! All I need is your cooperation and that key you keep carelessly waving about."

"I thought we were part of your experiment, not your research team," Spark reminded her.

"Duality, Spark, and I thought I told you to butt out," Dr. Dillinger said, curling her lip at him. "Full disclosure. I need the three of you and that key to unseal a passageway into the heart of the mountain, where our unnamed mystery society disappeared to."

"After their royalty crumbled and their people turned into demons," Spark added.

Dr. Dillinger hissed a sigh through her teeth and glared at Spark. "Not demons, you neophyte. Hybrids. Anyway, I've had about enough of all the wheel-spinning. Arbok?"

The arbok! How could he have overlooked the arbok? Spark splayed his hands, trying to shield Blanche from their concealed assailant. He turned to the side, following a glimmer of scales, and saw the arbok rear up and spread its hood. Spark's body froze and he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the undulating serpent.

From behind him, he heard Blanche sputtering, trying to form words in spite of their paralyzed jaw. Dr. Dillinger must have used her diode trick to instruct her arbok to use glare. How had Spark not seen that coming? He commanded his body to move, but remained as frozen as ever, without so much as a twitch of his finger. He could feel his equilibrium slipping, and just before he could fall, two sets of hands caught him under his arms.

The grunts who had caught him dragged Spark and Blanche to Dr. Dillinger, who gazed down at them in disgust. She pried the key from Blanche's fingers. "This could have been so much easier. It's a pity I still need you alive."

Summoning every ounce of willpower he had left, Spark spat at the doctor's feet. She scowled and stepped back.

"A real pity," she repeated. "Now, as you've made clear, I know you're dying to see Candela. Why don't we pay her a visit? We're past due for a heartwarming reunion."


	11. Chapter 11

As her eyes had adjusted to the darkness of her prison, Candela realized that the reason the space felt so enclosed was because of an enormous black curtain positioned several yards in front of her. Other than that, the only things she could see were two additional stone chairs to her right. If it weren't for the shackles, they'd resemble thrones. Candela couldn't look at the empty chairs for more than a few seconds without the emotion welling in her throat.

Candela vacillated between rage and despair. She fantasized about letting Flicker roast Dr. Dillinger alive, but what good would that do? It wouldn't provide enough penance for what she'd done to the pokémon in her sick experiments. It certainly wouldn't bring back her friends. After it was all over, Candela would still be alone. Dr. Dillinger's pet. Would Professor Willow ever even know what had happened to them?

She heard voices beyond the curtain, but they were muffled and indecipherable. She wasn't sure how long Dr. Dillinger had been gone. Maybe an hour? She wasn't looking forward to her return, but she hated not knowing what came next. What made it worse was that she was starting to need the restroom, but didn't expect that Dillinger would allow her much of a leash for that.

The voices grew louder and the fabric of the curtain rippled. Candela balled her fists and waited for Dr. Dillinger's face to appear. Instead of the doctor, two of her grunts shuffled into the space, dragging something… a person? As they came closer, Candela's heart skipped a beat.

"Spark!" Her voice was ragged with emotion. He was limp, and the grunts were pulling him in such a way that she couldn't see his face, each one gripping beneath his arms so his heels dragged against the stone. What new horror was this? Was Dr. Dillinger not satisfied with merely murdering her friends? She had to make sure Candela saw the bodies? Her stomach clenched and she choked back nausea.

But then the grunts turned enough that she could see his face. He looked dirty and exhausted and a trail of browned blood stained the side of his head, but he was awake. He was alive. Spark's eyes met Candela's and he smiled, even though there was no reason to smile. Candela nearly forgot to breathe.

"Fancy meeting you here," Spark slurred.

He'd been paralyzed, but it seemed the effects were waning. Before Candela could get her thoughts in order, another set of grunts entered the area, hauling a similarly disheveled Blanche in the same manner. Candela tried to speak, but her mouth had gone dry. She watched helplessly as the grunts arranged Spark in the furthest chair to the right and Blanche in the middle one, only a few feet from Candela. Blanche leveled a poisonous glare at the grunt who snapped the restraints around their immobile limbs.

The grunts retreated wordlessly, and the three were alone and alive and together for the first time in what felt like centuries.

"Y-you… you're alive," Candela managed, the reality of the situation still sinking in. Her eyes burned with forming tears.

Blanche weakly turned their head toward her and smiled, but Candela could see the fear in their olive eyes. "It's good to see you, Candela."

Candela tried to smile back, but lost control of her private storm of emotions and began to sob instead. An immense weight lifted from her chest, and she succumbed to her tears, barely registering the surprised faces of her friends. She hated to cry in front of them, but it felt like she had no choice. Her sobs transformed into laughter as she tried to dry her face with her shoulder.

"Whoa, Candy, it's OK," Spark said, laughing a little himself. "We're here. We're all alive."

"D-don't call me that, you ass," Candela said, regaining control of herself. "I thought you were dead! Dr. Dillinger said…" She couldn't finish the thought.

"Dr. Dillinger says a lot of things, and most of them aren't true," Blanche said. They worked their jaw and twisted their neck, trying to hurry along their recovery from whatever had paralyzed them.

"What happened to you guys? Where were you?" Candela asked, wishing she had a hand free to wipe the remaining tears from her face.

"Oh, you know, playing hide-and-seek chess with a mad scientist. You?" Spark said.

"Reading that mad scientist's research journals," Candela said. "The things this woman has done…"

Spark must have read the pain in her face. "It's OK. We're gonna make things right. As soon as Blanche comes up with a plan. Blanche?"

"Working on it, Spark," said Blanche. Their fingers twitched, and they grinned at the tiny improvement to their condition.

"By the way, you two look terrible," Candela said.

"Thank you for that insight," Blanche said, still concentrating on wiggling their fingers.

"I didn't know sarcasm was in your programming," Candela said. She didn't have the words to express just how incredible it felt to banter with her fellow team leaders again. The tears started to well again, and she laughed to chase them away.

They were alive. They looked like hell, but they were alive.

Dr. Dillinger's muffled voice shook Candela out of her warm moment. She glanced at Spark and Blanche to see if they heard it too. Both sat rigidly, faces sober and attentive.

"You wanted results, didn't you? And I got them!" said Dr. Dillinger. A few moments of silence, and then she continued, answering an inaudible speaker. "Yes, it was a little reckless, but it was calculated… Yes, we have all three… Sir, like I said, they're all… yes… yes, OK… Sir, if I could… no, you're right, I'm sorry. No, don't hang up, I-!" Another pause. "Jackass."

The curtain swayed and Dr. Dillinger stormed into view. "Ugh, I should have put him on speaker. Don't you just hate micromanagers?"

Nobody responded.

Dr. Dillinger propped her hand on her hip. "What, not feeling chummy with me yet? We'll get there. Ooo, I know! It's not exactly an 'I'm sorry I almost killed you' fruit basket, but I'd be forever indebted to you for accepting these as an apology gift instead. Hypno?"

The hypno wandered out of the darkness, his arms laden with three gleaming metal rings. Dr. Dillinger took them and admired their sheen before she strolled toward Candela. Candela tried to pull away, but Dillinger deftly caught her under the chin to hold her head still. Candela glimpsed the geometric signature of circuitry on the inside of the circlet before the doctor snugged it onto her head. It fit tightly above her brow.

Dr. Dillinger spoke as she as she delivered the next circlet to Blanche. "They're not quite the crowns from the door, but they do carry a certain regality to them, don't they? And they suit my purposes so well."

Once Blanche's was secure, she moved to Spark. After she fixed the band around his head, she ruffled his hair affectionately. Then she stepped back, pulled out her communicator, and tapped it a few times. Candela jumped as the inside of her circlet shifted, mimicking the sensation of insects crawling in her hair. She felt something pinching her scalp, and she reflexively jerked her arms against their restraints in an attempt to reach the circlet to remove it.

"There! Perfect fits for everyone," Dr. Dillinger chimed. "Hypno, the curtain."

Dr. Dillinger typed something into her communicator as her hypno pulled on a rope to part the curtain. For all her technology, Candela found it odd that she'd use such a theatrical device to divide the room. Of course, the doctor did have a flair for the dramatic. As the curtain separated, a massive hall was revealed, lit by flaming chandeliers. Candela would have admired the intricately carved columns and sprawling ceiling more were it not for the crowd of Team Rocket scientists and their machinery taking up a considerable portion of the floor.

"What are they all staring at?" Spark asked.

The scientists appeared to be ignoring the three team leaders, directing their attention instead to something above and behind them. Candela craned her neck to see what drew their gazes, but her chair – or was it her throne? – blocked whatever it was.

Dr. Dillinger continued typing into her communicator, paused to giggle, and pressed something in the middle of the screen. Suddenly, Candela's head erupted in pain. Above her own startled cry, she could hear the grunts and whimpers of Blanche and Spark to her right. All of her thoughts were pushed from her head, replaced by a pulsing, raging, skull-splitting headache. She vaguely sensed the restraints on her arms and legs release, but she couldn't command her body to move.

Though she could barely open her eyes, Candela could see large, dark shapes being pulled into the hall in front of her. She tried to focus on them, but her vision was blurry and her mind was overpowered by the pain radiating from the circlet. Just when she feared she'd pass out, the headache relented enough for her to return to her senses.

"Nifty pieces of tech, aren't they? They transmit psychic waves, much like the attacks of psychic pokémon. They were prototypes for our human-to-pokémon communications system, but they failed, for obvious reasons," Dr. Dillinger explained.

Blanche shakily started to stand, but Dr. Dillinger waved her finger like a disappointed teacher and tapped the communicator again. Blanche gasped and collapsed back into the stone seat, their eyes screwed tightly shut.

"Please remain seated until instructed to stand," said Dr. Dillinger. "The show's just starting."

The three dark shapes in the middle of the hall became clear. They were shaped like the little cages that a flighty pet pidgey might be kept in, but on a scale suitable for a snorlax, and were covered in dark cloth. A cluster of researchers swarmed around the shapes, chattering quietly, checking panels on the sides of the carts that they'd been rolled in on. Candela knew immediately what they had to be, but also knew how impossible that should have been.

Dr. Dillinger snapped her fingers, and the scientists removed the cloth from the cages. The trio of legendary birds huddled in their private prisons, somehow both awe-inspiring and pitiful in their condition. The cages were too small for them, and they barely had room to adjust. Their heads were tucked close to their chests, and their eyes were mere slits.

They were never meant to be kept like this. Candela struggled to reconcile what she was seeing with what she remembered from meeting Moltres on the hill as a child. This was hardly the same pokémon. Its flames were weak and its body shuddered with every small noise that echoed in the hall.

This was sacrilegious.

"I can see the disapproval in your faces," Dr. Dillinger said, pacing in front of the team leaders. "It's terrible seeing them like this, isn't it? But they don't respond well to pokéballs. Finding Moltres' roost and baiting the others with its distress calls was the easy part, relatively speaking. In fact, Moltres had been right here, under our noses, all along! But that's another story. Capture was a nightmare, but once we managed to contain them in our network of caves, all we had to do was wait for you three to put the pieces together and come knocking."

"What did you do to them?" Spark asked, his voice strained from resisting the psychic waves.

"Patience!" Dr. Dillinger barked. "I'm generously sharing the details of my nefarious exploits with you, so it's in your best interest to sit back and shut up while I do so. Understood?"

Again, nobody answered. Dr. Dillinger grinned pleasantly.

"Good," she said. "Now, it's not so much what we did to them as what we did to you, but we'll get to that. My team has spent years poring over the hieroglyphs in this mountain, and we've made some fascinating discoveries. For example: Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres will, in rare circumstances, bond with a human in need of their strength. It's something that can't be forced – believe me, we've tried. And then I remembered something that Willow had said to me back when we were optimistic new graduates. He told me about a couple kids in his town who claimed to have seen two of the birds. I'd almost forgotten about it until I heard about his assistants and the none-too-subtle symbols he'd picked for their teams."

Candela cursed the professor under her breath, even though there was no way he could have known about Dr. Dillinger's project. Right? Just how close had they been?

"When you came running to the rescue on Articuno's heels, I knew it had to be you. Based on the records we've found in these caves, I theorized that your bond with the birds would be strengthened via extreme emotion, which appeared to be the catalyst of previously recorded bonds, including the last known one. I couldn't have predicted just how strong that connection would be," said Dr. Dillinger. Candela hated how pleased with herself she looked. "I mean, take a look at this."

She skipped toward Spark. "Hey there, Sparky," she purred. "Everyone, please direct your attention to Zapdos. I think you'll be quite tickled."

Spark yelped as Dillinger delivered a sharp kick to his ankle, which Candela now saw to be wrapped in the orange scraps of his missing coat. Zapdos squawked and tucked its corresponding leg closer to itself, though there was no visible injury to it. "Tickled" wasn't the word she would have gone with. "Appalled" was much more appropriate.

"Isn't that incredible? It's how we've managed to subdue and cage them," Dr. Dillinger boasted.

"Congratulations on being completely evil. Are you done monologuing yet?" Candela growled.

Dr. Dillinger rolled her eyes. "Nobody appreciates a good build-up these days. Fine. You want your big finish? Stand up."

When they hesitated, Dr. Dillinger pressed her communicator, and Candela's brain was once again consumed by the agonizing psychic pulses. As the pain subsided, she stood, almost without meaning to. She couldn't take another blast from the circlet. Her friends stood as well, wobbly and breathing hard to power through the last traces of paralysis.

"Come," Dr. Dillinger commanded, and though Candela hated herself for complying, she stepped forward.

Dr. Dillinger twirled her finger, and Candela obediently turned, wondering if she could lunge for the doctor while she was distracted with something else. But her mind went blank as she saw the object that had drawn the scientists' attention before.

The stone seats were definitely thrones, and hovering behind them was a bright, spinning star. Fire licked from its center, but so did swirls of snow and darts of electricity. It was silent and stable, like it had been hanging in the air for millennia, and would continue for millennia more. The orb had a diameter of about five feet, but its presence filled the space now that Candela had seen it.

"Isn't it something?" Dr. Dillinger murmured.

"What is it?" Blanche asked, their face bathed by its supernatural glow.

Dr. Dillinger pressed something into Blanche's hand. "It's a door, my dear," she said. "And it's time for you to open it."

§

 **AN:** Whew, it's been a weird week for me! But it's always a weird week for me. Anyway, I just wanted to note that insects are definitely a thing in the pokémon world, in case you wondered. They're mentioned in certain pokédex entries and you can even see a pidgey eating a regular old worm in one of the early episodes of the anime. So when Candela feels insects in her hair, I'm not breaking the rules of the pokémon world. And that's all I have to say about that, Your Honor. Hot milky. I mean, not guilty. (And I can't say this enough: Thank you all so much for your kind words! I can't describe how much it makes my day when you respond to a new chapter. I'm so happy you're enjoying the adventure!)


	12. Chapter 12

The key stung Blanche's hand as Dr. Dillinger pressed it into their palm. They could feel a buzzing energy flowing out of it and up their arm, and though their impulse was to drop it, they couldn't make their fingers release. It was like the strange, shard-like key had become an extension of themself. Their hand lifted on its own accord until the key pointed at the glowing, elemental orb above them.

"Blanche, what are you doing?" Spark reached for Blanche's arm, but suddenly flinched back, presumably as Dr. Dillinger activated the band around his head.

Candela watched over her shoulder, eyes darting. "They're opening the cages. Blanche! You can't do this. You're playing right into her hand!"

"I… I don't want to do this! I can't stop it!" Blanche said, but even speaking had become difficult. The sphere pulled at their arm and they couldn't look away as it began to lose its integrity. Lightning flashed away from it, and a cold wind flowed over them. Though they couldn't see what was happening behind them, they heard a clatter of metal and the heavy thrum of huge wings beating the air.

"Don't lie to your friends, Blanche," Dr. Dillinger said, her lips centimeters from their ear. They wanted to knock her away, but they couldn't move. "I think you _do_ want to do this. You were practically drooling when I told you about the lost civilization. This is the kind of discovery that will put your name in the history books. Even if the notoriety doesn't appeal to a person as private as you, I'm sure you're still burning with curiosity. Your analytical mind won't let you walk away from a mystery like this."

"Don't listen to her!" Spark shouted, clutching at his circlet and trying lucklessly to remove it. "You can't let her through that door!"

"Sit down, Spark," Dr. Dillinger ordered as she tapped her communicator.

Spark cried out and fell to his knees. Candela took advantage of the distraction and latched onto Blanche's extended arm. She'd nearly managed to wrench the key away before Dillinger sent a pulse through her head as well, causing her to shriek and double over. The birds screeched as well, shaking the hall, but they continued flying over Blanche's head. They formed a halo above the orb, perfectly spaced, held aloft by the pumping of their massive wings.

Dr. Dillinger sighed contentedly. "Can you believe _this_ is the part I was worried about? I thought you might not know what to do, or that the birds would refuse to fly, or a million other things would go wrong! But it was in your blood after all. You were born to do this. You can't even resist."

Electricity crackled between the tip of the key and the increasingly active orb. It seemed to be calling out to Blanche's soul, drawing them in. Though they couldn't avert their gaze, they could sense Spark and Candela easing up on either side of them, no longer fighting Dr. Dillinger's "crowns." As much as Blanche wanted to deny Dillinger's assertion, they truly couldn't resist the pull of the sphere, and it seemed their friends couldn't either.

The birds broke formation and, defying physics, hovered around the orb with their wings extended, echoing the design at the top of the stone door that Blanche and Spark had encountered. This was it. Blanche knew it was too late to stop, even if they could figure out how to. Lightning flashed between Zapdos and the sphere, and then a column of fire formed between Moltres' talons, and finally, a whirlwind of ice poured from Articuno in the center. In the corners of their eyes, Blanche watched arcs of electricity zip around Spark's body and a wreath of flame enshroud Candela, and yet they weren't alarmed. Ice crystals sprouted up Blanche's forearms, and it felt perfectly natural.

The bottom of the orb ruptured and expanded toward the floor, creating a wide pillar of ice and fire and lightning behind the thrones. Once it touched down, its center turned dark, reminding Blanche of a black hole. An icy wind blasted from the pillar, knocking Blanche back a step. The key fell from their hand, but it didn't matter.

The door had been opened.

Dr. Dillinger's laugh started low and subtle beneath the roar of wind and thunder, but it built quickly, until she was clutching her stomach and gasping for air. Blanche couldn't miss the opportunity to act, but when they tried to move toward the doctor, their legs failed them. Before they could crack their knees against the ground, Spark and Candela caught them under their arms and guided them back up. Blanche struggled to move their legs again, but discovered their feet had been encased in ice. Using Candela and Spark as support, they kicked against the ground until the ice shattered. Astoundingly, Blanche didn't feel cold.

"Beautifully done! Oh, isn't it incredible? Have you ever seen such a wonder?" Dr. Dillinger spouted, gesturing grandly at the doorway. "Years and years of scavenging for meaning among broken stone murals and half-eroded tablets, and we've finally done it! I could just kiss you! But I can see you're all in a bad mood at the moment. Why don't you take a nap until you feel better? Hypno, a hand here?"

Her hypno, who had been obediently standing on the sidelines, stepped forward.

"Close your eyes!" Blanche said. Just before they closed them, they caught the hypno's gaze lingering on Candela.

"Go ahead, use… what? Hypno, what are you…?" Dillinger's voice trailed off, followed by a soft thump.

Blanche opened their eyes and took a moment to assess the scene. Dillinger sprawled on the stone before them, her chest rising and falling peacefully, her eyes closed, mouth loose. Her hypno closed his hand around his pendulum to stop it from swinging, but it had clearly been aimed at his master. The scientists by the empty cages stared in shock, but the calm didn't last long. It took only a couple seconds for the first Team Rocket grunt to pull out a pokéball and call forth a victreebel. A dozen more scientists followed her lead, releasing a wave of golbats, raticates, rhyhorns, primeapes… Blanche couldn't keep up with them.

Spark launched forward, and Blanche tried to snag his sleeve as he ran past. Candela followed him and, not being hindered by an injured leg, beat him to the hypno. She spread her arms, as if that would be enough to protect the hypno from the oncoming surge of pokémon.

"Candela!" Blanche screamed, but she didn't flinch.

Spark caught up with her and stood by her side, mimicking her posture, forming a flimsy human barrier with her in front of the hypno. Dillinger's hypno. An enemy pokémon that had rooted around in their dreams and betrayed them to Team Rocket. An act of treason against his master did not absolve him. In fact, it just proved that this pokémon was not to be trusted, and certainly not defended! Even now, rather than trying to protect himself, the hypno was rummaging in Dillinger's coat, oblivious to the approaching army. Blanche couldn't avoid the memory of Spark huddled over the meowth in the storm a month before, risking his life for a child's pet. Blanche had wanted to understand why he'd done that, and had started to get there. But this? They couldn't comprehend it.

A magmar issued forth a bout of flame at Spark and Candela. Before it could reach them, a shadow passed overhead, and Moltres descended to take the brunt of the attack. It landed heavily, and the magmar's fire rolled harmlessly off of its chest. Zapdos soared past Moltres and unleashed an electric storm on the pokémon still charging toward the them. As it pulled up and prepared for another flyby, Blanche turned to find Articuno still in position above the pillar.

But something was wrong. The sides of the doorway flickered and distorted as the fire and lightning dissipated from it. Articuno pounded its wings against the air, fighting to stay in place. Once again, Blanche felt themself being tugged toward the anomaly, only something was different this time. They struggled to keep from tipping toward the unstable portal as a powerful wind pushed against their back.

Perhaps the comparison to a black hole had been more accurate than Blanche had intended. Without Zapdos and Moltres, Articuno was struggling to keep the door stable, and it seemed to be collapsing in on itself, sucking in everything around it like a dying star. Blanche protected their face with their arm as several stray papers blustered by and vanished into the dark, fluctuating pillar. If they could open the door, maybe they could close it, but only if the other two birds participated. But if they rejoined Articuno, Spark and Candela would be defenseless against the barrage of Team Rocket pokémon.

Blanche wracked their brain for a solution, but being sucked into a black hole proved to be a bit of a distraction. They lowered themself as much as they could to resist the pull and watched as Zapdos rained down lightning and Moltres spewed flame at any pokémon that dared approach. However, even the legendary birds strained against the increasing gravity of the collapsing portal. Zapdos dove for the ground and gripped the stone with its talons while Moltres tucked its head low to avoid flying debris.

Candela grabbed Spark's shoulder for stability and looked back at Blanche. "What's going on?" she shouted.

Blanche shook their head and planted a hand on the ground for extra resistance. "The portal is collapsing! Try to get Moltres and Zapdos back in place!"

"How are we supposed to do that?" Candela demanded, and ducked to avoid a clipboard as it was sucked into the portal.

Spark cupped his hand by his mouth as a makeshift megaphone. "Hey! Guys! Moltres and Zapdos!"

Candela shook him. "Do you seriously think two super-powerful legendary pokémon are going to respond to that?!"

Despite Candela's disbelief, the birds turned their heads. Spark pointed at the portal and the birds appeared to consider it, but then turned back to the few remaining conscious Team Rocket pokémon. They still seemed devoted to the task of defending Candela and Spark, even though the few pokémon that hadn't fainted were now falling back, fearful of the birds and of the portal's draw. A few of the knocked-out pokémon slid along the floor toward the portal and were saved by their trainers, who recalled them to their pokéballs in the nick of time.

"Forget it!" Blanche yelled, though their voice was carried away from them and they feared Spark and Candela wouldn't hear it. "Grab onto something! Don't get pulled in!"

Candela crouched low and took hold of the hypno's arm while Spark caught Dr. Dillinger's wrist as she started to slide away. They couldn't believe their eyes. Blanche was totally prepared to let Dillinger and her traitorous pokémon fly into the portal, but Spark and Candela had other ideas. They pushed away the creeping sensation of guilt and redirected their attention to finding a foothold.

But the stone was too slick, and there was no foothold to be found. Blanche's nails tore against the ground as they were hauled backwards, toward the doorway. They twisted around and managed to catch themself on the center throne's base. How long could this last? If Articuno released its hold, would the orb return to its previous state? Or would everything just get worse?

"What are you all standing around for? The door's open! Get your asses in gear!"

A lanky young man with a long, dark face and shaggy hair pushed his way past a clump of scientists who were clinging to their machines to resist the portal's pull. He was dressed differently than the other grunts and wore an old-fashioned black and red military doublet that reminded Blanche of a marching band uniform. It was a quirky contrast to the drab coats and uniforms of the other Rockets.

He pointed past Blanche as he shouted again. "Get moving! That's an order!"

The grunts reluctantly started toward the portal, slipping and gliding, their coats snapping in the wind that drew them in. Moltres spread its wings, preparing to attack, but was caught by the wind and dragged backwards, nearly hitting Candela and Spark. Above Blanche, Articuno shrieked with that glass-and-windstorm voice. Its wings flapped wildly, releasing silken blue plumage that was immediately sucked into the door. It couldn't stay airborne, and inch by inch, it was being pulled in.

The grunts filed up the shallow steps to the plateau on which the thrones perched, and Moltres and Zapdos were too distracted by the wind and Articuno's distress to stop them. The first brave soul staggered ahead of the group and, with his arms wrapped tightly around a petrified golbat, let the door suck him into the blackness. Blanche's heart beat in their throat as they watched one Rocket after another vanish into the dark, their frightened voices swallowed up by the wind and the anguished screams of Articuno as it lost its battle with the portal.

"I'll take her off your hands."

Blanche looked away from the horrible scene to see the lanky man in the doublet kneeling next to Spark, who continued to hold Dillinger down. Spark tried to reply, but the man ignored him and pulled the doctor out of his grasp. The sudden move caused Spark to lose his footing, and he slipped several feet as the man dragged Dr. Dillinger toward the line of grunts.

Spark stopped his momentum by grabbing a raised piece of stone, but it only held his weight for a few seconds. When it broke, Spark fell back once more, his hands scrabbling for any kind of purchase. The portal's suction was too strong; there was no chance he could stop himself now.

Blanche braced against the throne and reached for Spark as he tumbled into range. They clamped their hand around his wrist and he reflexively grabbed theirs, creating a sturdy trapeze hold. Blanche grunted as Spark's weight jerked their shoulder, but didn't dare release their grip. The portal pulled Spark from the ground, and it was all Blanche could do to keep themself from being sucked out from behind the throne with him.

Blanche craned their neck to see if Candela was still secure. She huddled close to the ground, her arm over the hypno. They were slowly sliding backwards, but weren't in immediate danger. One catastrophe at a time.

By the portal, the Rockets continued to be sucked into the depths, even the ones who tried to scramble away. The lanky man and Dillinger had disappeared, presumably having already gone through. The darkness climbed Articuno's body almost to the wings, but the legendary pokémon wasn't quite done fighting.

"Hold on, Spark," Blanche said through gritted teeth as they strained to pull him toward the throne.

The fingers of Spark's free hand reached for the corner of the throne but came up short, even with Blanche's help. Blanche's hold on him slipped, unable to compete with the door's gravity. Spark's eyes widened as he felt it, but for some reason, he forced a smile. After a moment of confusion, Blanche realized what he was thinking.

"Don't you dare!" they wheezed, tugging him closer again.

"I have to, Blanche," Spark said. "It's going to be OK. Trust me."

"Spark, don't-!"

But he'd already let go. Blanche held as tightly as they could, but his limp hand slid through theirs. Spark fell through the door, and the darkness closed around him like a black ocean, and he was gone.

§

 **AN:** Hey! I've just realized I'm NOT losing my mind (to everyone's surprise) and some of the recent reviews on this and other stories have not been showing up. I kept seeing the number of reviews increase, but couldn't find them, and thought that I was going batty. Lo and behold, this is a site-wide issue (as of 9/27/16) and it's (theoretically) being worked on. However, your reviews come to my email, so I've been able to read them! Maybe they'll show up on the story proper someday, haha. Until then, know that I'm getting your feedback, even if it doesn't appear on the site. I just wanted to let you know in case you thought I was blocking or hiding them!


	13. Chapter 13

"What do you mean? There must be some mistake."

"No mistake, ma'am. I'm sorry, but your son was unable to sit for the duration of the exam, and failed to complete it. We can't accept him to our school."

" _Our_ school? My family _founded_ this school! You realize who you're talking to, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, of course I do, and as always, we at Volt Academy are honored to have you and your husband on our campus."

"Oh, but not my son?"

"We have strict entry requirements at the Academy. Spark may be a bright child, but if he can't concentrate on academics and learn how to conduct himself in the classroom, we can't include him in our program."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I understand that you're upset, ma'am. But you know better than anyone that we are a prestigious institution dedicated to teaching the best and brightest of the region. Because of that, we have stringent guidelines regarding the students we can accept. Spark didn't meet them this year. Perhaps next year, with some counseling…"

"I'm an alumna of this school. All the members of my family are alumni. We treasure our years here, and I'm certain the quality of education and the reputation of Volt influenced our admission into respectable colleges and rewarding careers. I'll not stand for Spark being denied the experience just because he's a bit fidgety."

"Ma'am, he's more that 'a bit fidgety.' The boy can't sit still. Even if he could… I don't know how to say this."

"Spit it out. I'd like know."

"He doodled all over his exam paper. The proctor had to stop him from singing. Twice. He misspelled his own name at the top. He wrote 'Spork.'"

"Oh, he was just being playful. He's quirky."

"The Volt Academy entrance exam is not the time to be 'playful' or 'quirky.' I'm sorry, ma'am, but Spark isn't Volt caliber."

The car ride home from the school was silent and agonizing. Sometimes, Spark wondered if he was even real. Everyone talked as if he wasn't there. Usually, if a grownup was talking to him, it was to tell him he wasn't supposed to be there anyway. Clearly, Volt didn't want him around either. Not that he liked it there. The rooms were too cold, and nobody smiled.

Spark played with plastic pokémon models on the kitchen floor while his mom and dad discussed the situation that night. He was just an obstacle to them, blocking their paths around the kitchen as they fretted and paced. He staged a battle between a pikachu and a bulbasaur as they talked, pretending not to listen in. Not that they'd notice.

His mother kicked it off, as she always did.

"He can't go back to public school. What are we going to tell my parents?"

"Didn't the administrator say Spark could try again next year?"

"Next year will be too late. Missing the first possible admission period is a stain on his record. Even if he gets in next year, he'll be the odd one out. And I'm starting to wonder if…"

"If what?"

"Well, what if he's… slow?"

"He's not. He just thinks a little differently."

"I don't know what we did wrong. What if he's the first one in the family not to graduate from Volt?"

"Is there a way he can retake the test? Maybe today was an off day for him."

"Maybe. I'm sure we can pull some strings. Sparky?"

Spark looked up from his mock gym battle. The pikachu was on the ropes, but the bulbasaur felt bad and was holding back. He held them in place, frozen in time, as he waited for his mother to continue.

"What happened today, Sparky?"

Spark shrugged. "I dunno."

His mother's mouth formed that tight, thin line it did when she didn't like an answer. "I just feel like you didn't try today. What was wrong?"

"I _did_ try! I really did!" Spark said. He hated that his mom was so sad and worried. "I didn't like the test."

"Sparky, you're going to have to do a lot of things you don't like as you grow up," said his father. "I know tests aren't fun, but they're part of life. They're how we learn."

"I know, but…"

His mom raised her finger to cut him off. "Do you think you can try to take it again?"

Spark rolled the pikachu between his fingers. "I… yeah, I can try…"

"You have to really, really try this time, Sparky. You can't goof off. This is very, very important."

His throat hurt. For some reason, he wanted to cry. "I know. I'll try."

After his parents were asleep, he slipped out his window and went to the only place he knew could clear his mind. He made this journey a few times a month, but nobody had caught on. Spark suspected that at this point, he could probably march out the front door, banging pots and pans, and still not be discovered by his parents. He smiled at the idea as he pried aside a loose piece of the power plant's fencing.

The glow and hum of the power plant was a lullaby to Spark. The low drone drowned out the dozens of competing thoughts in his head, and suddenly he could think clearly, about one thing at a time rather than 50. He imagined the chrome spires and fantastical twists of steel to be the architecture of an alien city, and he was the human ambassador. He liked to draw comics about it, but hadn't brought his sketchbook tonight. In fact, he'd drawn a scene about an alien dinner party on his exam that afternoon, because he'd had a great idea about what might be served at such an event, and he had to write it down right away. Plus, he couldn't focus on the questions for very long before they jumbled up into meaningless nothing in his head. He had to take breaks by humming or drawing or walking around the room. How was he supposed to know that was against the test's rules?

He didn't mean to, but he started to cry. He just wanted to play pretend and calm down, but the stupid exam was still buzzing around in his head. What if he _was_ slow? What if he wasn't smart enough? Everyone else he knew was so, so smart, and he was just… Spark. He really had tried his best, or he _thought_ he had. But maybe he hadn't. The other kids in the room were quiet and solemn, and they didn't need to get out of their seats or sing songs or take drawing breaks to finish their tests. They knew what they were doing. They were good kids, and Spark was a bad kid who couldn't do anything right, and his mom had cried a little before bed, and it was his fault, and maybe everyone would be better off if he really _was_ an alien ambassador on a faraway planet.

He'd recognized one of the kids in the exam room. The new kid, the one with pretty white hair, the one who had tattled when Candela beat up those big kids a while ago. Spark didn't know the kid's name, or even whether the kid was a boy or a girl. He supposed girl, because the kid wore a skirt in the exam room, and had long hair, but his gut told him that he was missing something. Whatever. That kid, she or he had stared at him when he started humming to himself, and had looked angry with him for a few seconds, but then had sort of smiled. It made Spark's face warm. He'd been wrong about nobody smiling. One person at Volt had smiled, and it was a tiny but wonderful smile.

But he wouldn't get to see it again, because the kid probably would never want to play with Candela and him, and he certainly wasn't going to get into Volt with him or her. Maybe even Candela wouldn't want to play with him anymore. She got so mad at him and hated when he cried, and he cried a lot. He didn't want to. It just happened. There wasn't room in his body for everything he felt, and it always came pouring out.

He was tired of feeling so much, all at once. It made it so hard to think sometimes. And he was tired of being alone, even when other people were around them. He didn't want to be a ghost.

He just wanted to play and to stop feeling sad but instead he was bawling on the concrete, like the giant baby that he was.

The hush of leaves shaking in a sudden wind made him jump. Spark stood and wiped the crumbs of dirt from his knees, compulsively trying to make himself look presentable in case a grownup was there. But it wasn't a grownup. It wasn't like anything he'd ever seen, not in real life, not outside of picture books or his scratchy drawings.

Zapdos perched above him on a steel bar, adjusting its shining wings. Its eyes locked with his, and he felt visible for the first time in months. The bird was so much bigger than he'd imagined in his daydreams. It filled up his world, and for a while, only Spark and Zapdos existed. The terror and wonder in Spark's heart created such blissful torment.

Something wasn't right. The buzz of the power plant turned to a whine, a ringing in his ears, growing louder. The image of Zapdos faded, and Spark felt himself falling, falling…

"Spark?"

He opened his eyes. Blanche and Candela's blurry faces hovered above him. He felt a hand resting in his hair, and realized he was propped in Blanche's lap.

"What…?" His voice didn't sound like his own and seemed distant and muffled.

"Spark!" Though his vision remained hazy, there was no mistaking the bright half-moon of Candela's smile. She surprised him with a dangerously tight, though brief, hug. "If we weren't all in such a mess, I'd probably kill you!"

Spark blinked a few times to clear his eyes. "I'm sorry…?"

"You should be! Shit, Spark, you've got to stop doing this kind of thing."

Spark sat up, suddenly embarrassed about resting on Blanche's legs. His head spun for a few seconds, but soon stabilized. "What… what kind of thing?"

Candela used her fingers to keep count as she spoke. "Oh, you know, running into hazardous weather, overheating out of stubbornness, acting as a human shield for an evil mastermind, and _my_ personal favorite, HURLING YOURSELF INTO THE MYSTERIOUS BLACK ABYSS."

"Didn't you also play human shield for Dillinger's hypno?" Spark asked. The things he'd give for some ibuprofen…

"Well, yes," said Candela, lowering her fingers. "And as it turns out, Blanche and I were also sucked through the doorway, and not just to save your sorry ass again."

Spark hid his face in his hands and pretended he was just massaging his throbbing head. He couldn't handle the weight of the shame he was feeling. What the hell was wrong with him? Dr. Dillinger had been right to label him a perpetual damsel in distress. He couldn't linger on the thought for long. "What happened?"

"Zapdos followed you through the door," Blanche said, devoid of emotion. "That was enough for Articuno to lose its hold, and within seconds, the pillar became too strong for us to resist. We were all pulled through."

"Luckily, our new friend's quick thinking saved us from a messy crash," Candela said.

Spark dropped his hands. "New friend…?"

Dr. Dillinger's hypno leaned around Candela's shoulder, the picture of meekness. Spark waved at him and the hypno averted his eyes.

"He salvaged our pokéballs from Dr. Dillinger's coat and we used Candela's pidgeot to land safely on the other side of the door," Blanche said. Spark didn't like how clinical they sounded.

"Here," said Candela, passing a ball to Spark. "She's been knocking around in there, waiting for you. I'm surprised she didn't bust out on her own."

Spark held Rutabaga's pokéball and watched it rock for a moment before releasing her. The instant the raichu materialized, she bounded into Spark's arms. He held her close, even though her excited sparks tickled and stung.

"Hypno also nicked Dillinger's communicator. No more psychic circlets!" Candela announced, pointing at her head to illustrate the absence of the device.

The gears clicked into place in Spark's brain as he stroked Rutabaga's fur. "We're on the other side of the door?"

"See for yourself," Candela said. She stood, granting Spark a better view of the area.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but this felt like a letdown. They had landed in another cavernous chamber, a bulb-like room with glowing crystals sprouting from the rounded walls. Scraps of paper and broken machinery lay in heaps here and there, and Spark couldn't help but compare the image to Willow's lab after the thunderstorm.

"Kinda like modern art, isn't it?" Candela mused. "I know, I know. Another cave, yippee. There's a hallway over there, but that looks like the only way out of the room. We saw some grunts retreating through there, but had to deal with you first."

Spark tried to narrow down his many questions. "Where are the birds?"

"We don't know," said Blanche. "There's no sign of them. Or of the portal, for that matter."

Swallowing his pride, Spark moved on to his next concern. "That you for, uh, dealing with me."

"That's what we're here for, right? If we didn't have to rescue you from your own dumb stunts all the time, we'd probably get bored," Candela joked.

"Yeah, you probably would," Spark agreed, trying to smile. He felt that lump in his throat again, like he always used to as a child. He couldn't cry. He couldn't keep being the weepy-eyed fuckup in need of babysitting. Rutabaga twitched her nose and watched him closely.

"Just try to use your head, OK? Can you try?" Candela asked.

"Yeah," said Spark. He felt sick. "I'll try, Candy."

Candela flipped him off, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her affection. "Good! But call me Candy one more time, and I'll break your other ankle. OK! I'm going to scout around and see what else was blown in here. Hopefully some food and water. Team Rocket couldn't have been camped out in that hall for however-many-years without some necessities, right?"

Spark nodded. Candela and the hypno left him with Blanche and started toward a broken cabinet across the room as Rutabaga snugged herself into a ball in his lap. Spark waited until Candela and the hypno were sufficiently far away before he spoke.

"Blanche, I-"

His breath caught as Blanche's arms closed around him from behind. He felt their body against his back, warm, shaking with silent sobs. Unsure of what to do, Spark awkwardly patted their hand and waited for them to compose themself. After about a minute, Blanche drew a deep breath and released him.

"Is everything OK?" Spark whispered, rotating to face them. Rutabaga grumbled at being disturbed.

Blanche brushed their sleeve across their face, whisking away any evidence of tears. "Yes, of course. But I'm worried about you."

"I'm sorry," Spark said.

"I don't like how Candela handled it, but she's not wrong. Spark, you have to stop doing this. I don't understand why you're so hell bent on destroying yourself."

"What?" Spark glanced toward Candela to make sure he hadn't spoken too loudly, but she was still distracted with yanking on a crooked cabinet drawer.

"You're deliberately putting yourself in harm's way, and it needs to stop," Blanche said. "I can't take much more of this, Spark. Neither can Candela. We can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," Spark said. "I told you to trust me, didn't I? And everything came out fine! Well, essentially fine."

"Miraculously not dying is a poor measure of 'fine,'" Blanche said, raising an eyebrow.

"I've made it this far in life by miraculously not dying, and I intend to keep it that way."

The corner of Blanche's mouth twitched, and Spark knew they were struggling to keep their emotions in check. "Those thoughts you told me about before… how you feel about yourself…"

"My cripplingly low self-esteem is an entirely separate issue," Spark said.

"This isn't a joke, Spark. You didn't know what would happen when you let go of my hand. You were lucky to make it to the other side, and luckier still that you didn't do more than knock yourself out when you landed. You could have been killed for the umpteenth time in the past month. I understand that you were trying to save me, but Candela and I went through the portal anyway. Did you even consider how I would have felt if I didn't find you on the other side? Or worse, if I found you dead?"

Spark waited, speechless, as Blanche caught their breath. They hardly looked like themself. Their beautiful hair was a ratty mess, their face was smeared with dirt, their favorite blue coat was frayed and pulling apart at the seams. Their typically flat, calm face was lined with a thousand competing emotions that Spark knew they'd worked all their life to cage and control.

Blanche bit their lip and closed their eyes. "I feel terrible for what I've done to you, in one way or another. If you had died because I couldn't hold on to you… I don't know what I'd do."

Spark placed a hand on their knee. "Blanche, you haven't done anything to feel terrible about. In fact, you keep saving my life. I was trying to return the favor."

Blanche's brows drew together in anger. "No, you weren't. You were being selfish and reckless. I know this isn't exactly the time for us to work through the hurt in your head, but you can't keep going like this. I don't know how to help you. I'm not good at this sort of thing, and I don't want to cause you any more pain by bringing it up, but we have to do something."

Spark gently massaged Rutabaga behind the ears as he digested Blanche's words. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. But it was true that he hadn't considered the consequences for his friends. All he'd wanted was to help. To unburden them. To save them. He'd even managed to screw _that_ up.

Candela whooped from across the room, and Spark assumed she'd found something useful. It was as good an excuse as any to change the subject. "Candela seems to be taking this pretty well."

Blanche sighed and permitted the subject change. "You know her. She lands on her feet."

"She's probably compensating for crying in front of us earlier," Spark added.

Blanche didn't respond right away, and Spark immediately regretted mentioning it. "After everything Dr. Dillinger put us through, why did you try to protect her? I've never seen Candela in such a state. Not since..."

"I know," Spark interjected, noticing Candela coming back across the cavern. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not ready to be friends with Willow's evil ex, but I couldn't just let her fall through the portal."

"But you didn't have a problem going through yourself."

Spark could have kicked himself. "Right. Um. Listen, it was a weird moment, what with the gaping trans-dimensional rift and the three giant legendary pokémon and the army of criminal scientists."

Candela flopped down next to Spark, startling Rutabaga. "Speaking of the army of criminal scientists, they sure have a weak spot for junk food! Check it out."

She dumped a drawer she'd torn from a cabinet into the area between the three leaders, spilling protein bars, bags of chips, and soda cans. The hypno gingerly set down a white first aid kit next to Candela's spoils.

"I suppose it's marginally better than starvation," Blanche said, wrinkling their nose at a bright package of salt and vinegar chips that had landed close to their legs.

"Sorry I couldn't find a kale salad for you, Your Majesty," Candela said, tearing open a protein bar. "I know it isn't ideal, but it's what we've got, and we need to eat if we're going to chase down Dillinger and her cronies."

" _Are_ we going to chase them down?" Spark asked.

Candela talked around a bite of her bar. "What choice do we have? The door is gone, the birds are missing, and we can't let Team Rocket get away with whatever they're doing down here."

"She's right. There's a reason this place was sealed away. Even if we knew a way out, we can't let Team Rocket go unchecked," Blanche said.

Spark reflected on the marvelous and ominous carvings on the stone door. The suffering royalty left a strong impression in his mind, along with the demonic, horned humans. Dillinger had called them hybrids, and Spark dreaded what that entailed. Something horrible had happened here, and he wasn't sure he was ready to unravel the mystery.

"It's settled then," Candela said, popping open a can of soda. "We eat, we rest, and we keep going. And if we're lucky, we eventually go home to the professor and tell him he has terrible taste in chicks."

If they were lucky. Spark wanted to trust Candela, to play along with her energetic optimism, but he didn't know if he could. Like she'd told him to before, he supposed he'd just have to try.

§

 **AN:** My name's Quixi, and I deal with my emotional trauma by distributing it to video game characters. Anyhoo, review functions seem to be back, so huzzah! That is all.

9/29/16 - Just kidding, reviews are broken again, silly me. -_-


	14. Chapter 14

Dr. Joan Dillinger used her compact mirror to inspect her freshly bandaged nose. She looked absurd, her face crisscrossed with white tape, purple bruises blossoming under her eyes. But she supposed she had to give credit to Captain Pollard for patching her up. Of course, it would be much easier to be grateful to him if he weren't such a pompous, showboating ass.

As if he'd read her thoughts, his face appeared behind hers in the mirror. "Orange suits you, Joan."

It took her a moment to register what he meant. She looked down at the raggedy orange coat she'd confiscated from Blanche, assuming something that fluffy had to have a dozen hidden pockets to be searched. All she'd found was a candy bar wrapper. "It's cold in here. One of my scientists found it in the rubble. I didn't want it to go to waste."

"You mean one of _my_ scientists," Captain Pollard corrected.

Dr. Dillinger smiled at him, even though it made her nose throb. He was winding her up. She recognized that face he wore when he knew something she didn't. She hated how he stood there, his thumbs in the pockets of his vintage doublet, his bright smile a sharp contrast to the wet-clay-brown of his skin. He was young and cocky and handsome, and Dr. Dillinger contemplated punching him in his pretty face.

"I know you're dying to elaborate," she grumbled, clicking her compact closed.

"Maybe you don't remember, considering I carried your unconscious body through the door, but we've officially transitioned from the research stage to the exploratory stage. Exploration is my division. _Your_ scientists are now _my_ scientists. In fact, since I'm your superior officer, they've technically been mine all along," Pollard explained.

"Well, they report to me, and they weren't even meant to participate in the exploration. But we're all here now, in yet another miserable cave, so congratulations, 'superior officer,' you get to be the big man on campus. Can we end the pissing contest and move on?" Dr. Dillinger snapped.

Pollard chuckled. "What happened to your cloying sweetness, Joan? I miss how you called me 'Sir' on the communicator. Still cranky that your part of the project went FUBAR?"

Dr. Dillinger jammed her hands into the pockets of the giant coat to hide her shaking fists. "It did _not_ go FUBAR. I opened the door, didn't I? You and your lackeys barely arrived on time. You lot should be thanking me."

"Sure, you opened the door, and allowed it to get out of control, and lost your lead pokémon and the legendary birds and the key and the three people who are still quite likely _vital_ to the success of this mission, not to mention our escape," Pollard listed, walking in a circle around her, like a predator about to strike. "Honestly, it's astounding you didn't kill them before they reached the throne room. For all we know, they didn't survive the portal. We couldn't find them when we landed, after all."

Dr. Dillinger jumped on the opportunity to demonstrate her competence. "I have a theory about that, by the way. We're missing some of our people too, and I doubt it's because they managed to escape the pull of the door. I think the door was designed to open to various locations, and due to its instability at the time of our passage, certain people were separated and deposited in different areas."

"Gold star idea, Joan," Pollard said, pouting his lips in mock appreciation. "Any leads on where those areas are? Because my scouts tell me this hallway just keeps going and going, without a soul in sight."

Dr. Dillinger couldn't deny the bleakness of their situation. The hallway was wide and dark, illuminated by a scattering of crystals and the harsh white light of Pollard's expeditionary lanterns. His explorers and Dillinger's scientists (because, damn it, they were still hers) huddled around the lanterns as if they were fires, bandaging scraped limbs, prying open metal cans of food. Dillinger supposed she should again be grateful that Captain Pollard was so prepared for the exploration. He and his team had managed to bring food, light, bedding, and other essentials through the door, despite the chaos.

"Isn't it your job to be prepared for anything?" Dr. Dillinger goaded. "Look, the records we found suggest that the society from the stone door sealed itself away deep under the Akanoir mountains, which is where we appear to be. Beyond that, our intel is fairly limited."

Pollard scoffed. "Limited? Haven't you been studying this hellhole for years? How is it that you don't know anything about the other side of the door that you've been trying to open?"

Dr. Dillinger bristled, but kept her voice neutral. "Think about it, Captain. Everything we found was almost certainly intended as a warning to those on the outside. They didn't want anyone following them in. Do you really think they'd have wanted to leave us a map?"

"Ah, Joanie, then why would they leave us a key?" Pollard asked.

"It's Dr. Dillinger. I refer to you as Captain. Please return the courtesy and address me by my title," Dr. Dillinger said.

"Whatever you say, Doc," Pollard said, shrugging innocently. "I know you didn't expect to be part of the expedition, but that's what's happening. You're the closest thing I have to an expert. I need you to give me everything you've got. I'm no scientist, but I know all those tablets and murals didn't just show up overnight. These people – who really ought to be named, don't you think? – they had to have spent years creating those warnings. You said that the three royals went mad and some kind of sickness swept through the population."

Dillinger tilted her hand side-to-side. "It's a little more nuanced than that."

Pollard turned on his heel directly in front of her. He was such a tall, gangly man that it made Dillinger's neck stiff to look up at him. "That's why I'm talking to you about it, 'expert.' Whatever crisis drove them underground must have been gradual enough to have given them some prep time. Maybe they didn't leave behind a map, but they did leave a key and the legendary birds. What does that tell you?"

"That they didn't intend to stay sealed forever. That they expected their royals to be reincarnated in one form or another in order to rescue them," Dr. Dillinger said.

"So, they planned to survive down here until that day," Pollard extrapolated.

Dr. Dillinger walked away from him to give herself a chance to rest her neck. "Yes, but that would be impossible. Look at this place. Cold, dark, and lifeless. Not so much as a zubat. We'll be lucky to find skeletons intact enough for study."

Shouts echoed from down the hall, causing the clumps of Rocket grunts to stir and stand for a better view of the commotion. Dr. Dillinger squinted past the glare of lanterns at the trio of scouts rushing back into camp from the depths of the passage. Even in the darkness and from a distance, she could see the whites of their eyes.

"Something's down here!" one of them cried.

"What kind of something?" Pollard called to the one who'd spoken up.

"I d-don't know!" the grunt replied. "A monster! It was a monster!"

Captain Pollard grinned at Dr. Dillinger. "That's the trouble with you science types. Always too quick to dismiss the impossible."

§

 **AN:** Useless OC trivia: Captain Jay Pollard totally played clarinet in his high school marching band. Back to the team leaders next time!


	15. Chapter 15

When Candela woke from her much-needed nap, she found Spark still asleep catty-corner from her, but no sign of Blanche or the hypno. It was hard to know how long she'd slept without her communicator. They used Dillinger's sparingly to save its dwindling battery, but it couldn't settle on what time it was anyway. The clock function displayed random hours every time Candela looked, and was even more hopeless when it came to the date. Blanche had immediately tried using the device to call the lab, but that function was disabled as well, either because of the depth of the cave or the same glitch that affected the clock. Maybe the energy of the portal had frazzled its delicate electronics.

Candela stretched the stiffness out of her muscles and cracked her neck. She usually didn't mind roughing it, but the unforgiving stone floor hadn't been kind to her sore body. She looked forward to a long, hot soak in her tub when they finally got out of all this.

 _If_ they ever got out of all this.

No, she couldn't think like that. They'd made it this far more or less intact. They'd find a way out, but not before exacting some revenge on the Rockets. Candela envisioned that beautiful moment, the terror she'd strike into Dillinger's heart. She didn't dare imagine an alternative future. She had to stay positive and energetic so she could lend her strength to her friends.

And they sure seemed to need it. Candela sat with her arms around her legs and watched as Spark twitched in his sleep. He kept a protective arm around Rutabaga – who had refused to return to her ball – but the poor raichu couldn't possibly be getting any sleep as her trainer twisted and turned and curled and straightened every 30 seconds. Spark's face held a near constant grimace, and every so often, he drew a sharp breath, as though something had startled him in his sleep.

This was not the happy, sunshiny goofball Candela had grown up with.

"Damn it, Spark, _you're_ supposed to be the cheerleader in the group," Candela muttered with a sad smirk. "I'm trying my best, but you know I'm too salty for the job. I need your help."

Candela draped one of the scavenged Team Rocket lab coats over Spark and let her hand rest on his shoulder as she considered waking him. To her relief, he gradually stilled and his breathing steadied as the nightmare passed. Rutabaga yawned and peered up at Candela past a fold of the lab coat.

"You're a good friend, Rootie," Candela said, adopting Spark's shorthand for her. "I'm gonna check on Blanche. Can you wake him up if he starts tossing and turning again?"

Rutabaga squeaked, and Candela took it as an affirmative. The raichu was obstinate and lazy and had a tendency to raid the fridge in the lab's kitchen, but Candela had a soft spot for her. Not that she'd ever admit that to Spark. Nor would she admit that she slipped Rutabaga the occasional poké puff, which was probably why she was rutabaga-shaped in the first place.

Candela followed the sound of creaking metal through the piles of rubble to find Blanche. They stood next to Resolute, who moved chunks of machinery from one stack of debris to another with his strong vines. Blanche held up their hand for him to pause, reached into a freshly exposed section of wreckage, and pulled out something shiny and cylindrical. They inspected it for a moment before twisting it, revealing it to be a functional flashlight. Satisfied, Blanche added it to a duffel at their feet full of what must have been other useful objects.

"Morning, Blanche," Candela greeted, coming up alongside them. "Any good loot?"

"A few essentials. Some rope, canned food, bottled water. We even came across this bag prepacked for cave exploration. It's a bit worn, but it should hold up for our purposes," Blanche answered, not bothering to look away from the rubble.

"How long have you been up?" Candela asked, stifling a yawn.

"About an hour. It's difficult to say for certain."

Candela leaned back to see around Resolute, searching for their newest party member. "Where's Hypno?"

"Gone," Blanche said.

Candela tensed. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"I had my venomoth keep watch over us while we rested. He woke me in time to see the hypno retreating into the hallway we saw the grunts go down before," Blanche said.

Candela grabbed Blanche's wrist to turn them, forcing their attention away from the junk pile so she could look into their eyes. "How can you be so chill about this? What if he went back to Dillinger? Why didn't you stop him?"

"I didn't stop him because if he meant us harm, he could have made his move while we slept. He likely _is_ returning to Dr. Dillinger. She is his trainer, after all," Blanche said. They motioned for Resolute to stop moving debris.

"I'm not worried about Hypno hurting us, Blanche," Candela said, trying not to let her frustration boil into anger. Blanche tended to clam up in the face of too much emotion. "I'm worried about what Dillinger will do to him. She's not his trainer. She's his torturer. If you had seen the other experiments she's performed…"

"What would you have had me do? Attack him? Steal him? Like Team Rocket would?" Blanche's expression remained as cool and sharp as a sheet of ice.

Candela let go of Blanche's wrist and stared at them in disgust. "No, I'd have you _save_ him from being killed by his psychopathic master. What's going on with you? You're acting even more robotic than usual."

"I understand your concern, Candela. But we're in the middle of the most dangerous mission of our lives, and I can't afford to take chances on a previously hostile pokémon. I took mercy on him by not attacking," Blanche stated.

"You sent him to his death!" Candela snapped.

"What his trainer chooses to do with him is none of my concern," said Blanche.

Candela raked her fingers through her hair, momentarily at a loss for words. She had to calm down. Blanche wouldn't take her seriously if she made a scene. "OK, seriously, what the hell is the matter with you? I know you aren't a 'warm-fuzzies' kind of person, but you are not you right now. Spark isn't Spark either, for that matter. What Dr. Dillinger did to us was fucked up, but you can't shut down on me."

Blanche didn't say anything, so Candela kept going. "I thought you were dead, Blanche. I was devastated. I felt like Dillinger had hollowed me out. Now it's like you've come back from the dead, but you're not the friend I knew before. What happened?"

Blanche's stony expression finally cracked, if only slightly. Their lip quivered, and they turned their head away, as if to hide it. "I'm still your friend, Candela. I apologize if I sound cold, but I need to remain rational if we intend to survive this."

"Congratulations on your Spock-like approach to damage control, but I'd rather have the Blanche who experienced the occasional emotion back. I miss them," Candela said. "And I'm not big on the lovey-dovey shit either, so that's saying something."

The corner of Blanche's mouth turned up in a tiny smirk. "I've seen you kiss Spark's new hatchlings goodnight at the lab. Also, I know about Rutabaga's extra poké puffs."

Thank the stars, Blanche was still in there. Candela laughed to hide her massive sigh of relief. "Pokémon are different, OK? You assholes are basically my siblings. Half the time, I want to throttle you. Just be grateful this isn't one of those times."

"You also take Resolute on walks, don't you?"

That surprised Candela. She'd been extra discreet about walking Resolute since Blanche wasn't as lax with their pokémon as Spark was. "He likes the woods. Please don't be mad?"

Blanche shook their head. "I'm not mad. Resolute looks forward to your hikes. He isn't subtle."

Behind them, Resolute shuffled his giant, stubby legs bashfully. Like his trainer, the venusaur was reserved and difficult to read. Candela loved seeing him relax as they walked together on sunny days. He always looked so blissful with the sun glinting off his glossy petals.

"Good! I thought you might-"

Blanche clapped a hand across Candela's mouth to hush her, an action Candela look immediate offense to. She raised her hand to push Blanche away, but then heard something clattering nearby. Blanche slowly withdrew their hand and the two leaders stood in tense silence, waiting for another sound.

"Maybe it's Spark," Candela whispered, but she closed her hand around her machoke's pokéball.

"It didn't come from where we camped," Blanche whispered back.

A tan blur darted between two heaps of broken equipment. Candela called out Brutus by tapping the button of the pokéball, not daring to speak his name and draw attention. The machoke landed awkwardly, apparently caught off guard by her silent summon, but quickly settled into a defensive stance with his bulky arms raised for a punch.

Candela spun to face the sound of scuttling feet, but was too slow and only caught the tip of what might have been a tail vanishing behind a crooked filing cabinet. More sounds of metal being knocked and small, fast feet scampering over rock rose from all sides. Candela positioned herself against Blanche's back and tried to keep up with the skittering beings that flashed in and out of hiding.

The boom of electrical discharge coming from their makeshift camp drew Candela's attention away from the shadow-quick creatures. "Shit, Spark!"

"Go, quickly!" Blanche said.

Candela bolted forward, flanked by Brutus. The creatures fled from them, leaping into the darkness to conceal themselves. A slower one slipped into a shadow close enough that Candela caught a flash of scaly armor. Sandshrews? Ridiculously fast ones?

Whatever they were, they weren't attacking, and Candela and Brutus ran unhindered toward camp, with Blanche and Resolute close behind. Resolute's thundering steps rattled the skeletons of broken machinery. Ahead, lightning flashed.

Candela skidded to a stop as she found Spark and Rutabaga alone in the little clearing they'd slept in, very much awake and alert as they stood side by side in battle position.

"Candela! Blanche! Where were you? Are you OK? What's going on?" Spark asked, the questions pouring from his lips almost faster than Candela could process them.

"We're fine. Were you attacked?" Blanche asked as they and Candela joined Spark in a defensive triangular formation, all eyes outward toward the enemy.

"No, not yet," said Spark. "Rutabaga's been putting on a show to keep them back, but none of them have made a move. I'm not sure what kind of pokémon they are."

"Maybe sandshrews?" Candela suggested.

Spark immediately called Rutabaga back into her ball. He withdrew a different pokéball and prepared to throw it. "Marzipan, it's your turn to party."

Spark's jigglypuff sprang from her pokéball and landed delicately on one foot, pointing the other behind her spherical, pink body as if she were a ballerina. Under different circumstances, Candela might have giggled.

"Hope you've kept up on your arpeggios, Marzi, because I might need you to use Sing," Spark said, his eyes chasing after the fleeting traces of the creatures.

Marzipan twirled and winked at him, unperturbed by the menacing atmosphere. She cleared her throat and made a series of small twittering noises as a warm-up. Out among the rubble, the scurrying died down, and glinting yellow eyes shone from within the shadows as the creatures sized up the newcomer.

Swift as a bullet, one of the creatures charged out of hiding, but it wasn't targeting any of the leaders' pokémon. It came for Candela, its shining eyes full of hatred. A chill raced up her spine.

"Sing, Marzi!" Spark shouted.

Marzipan puffed up and started into a high, lilting melody, but before the attack could affect the attacking creature, another one burst forward and slashed Marzipan with long, white claws. Marzipan squealed as she was knocked back.

"Seismic Toss!" Candela commanded, coming back to herself.

As the creature launched itself at her, Brutus snatched it out of the air, then smashed it against the ground with such force that Candela nearly lost her footing in the shockwave. The creature wailed and writhed out of the machoke's grasp. In the few seconds it took to get its bearings, Candela finally got a decent look at it.

The goldenrod coloration and plated scales confirmed Candela's sandshrew suspicion, but this pokémon wasn't like the roly-poly ones she was familiar with. It was long-limbed and gaunt and about twice the size of an ordinary sandshrew. Its back and head were armored, but its underside was fleshy and exposed. Its eyes, as they locked with hers, were not the warm, dark eyes of a pokémon. They were wide and bright and, despite their luminescent quality…

They looked human.

Candela's heart felt like it had turned to ice.

"Resolute, Vine Whip!"

Resolute's vine caught the creature across the chest and flung it into a pile of broken office chairs. Candela released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"You OK, Candela?" Spark called. He knelt next to Marzipan, applying potion as quickly as he could.

"I'm fine," she said, and gave an appreciative nod to Brutus, who smiled back before returning to his fighting stance.

The not-quite-sandshrews crowded in a bobbing, leering circle around the leaders, only a few yards off, no longer resigned to the darkness. Something had changed in them. Candela couldn't shake the image of those piercing, humanlike eyes.

"There are too many," Blanche said, returning Resolute to his pokéball. The only indication of their alarm was the trail of sweat cutting a path through the dirt on their face. "We need to retreat."

"And how do we manage that?" Candela asked. It physically pained her to run from a fight, but these creatures… she didn't know what to think of them. She just wanted to get far, far away from them.

"Call out your ponyta and pidgeot. I'll clear a path to the hallway," Blanche said. They raised a pokéball above their head. "Now, please step back."

Blanche's gyarados filled the space between the leaders and the creatures. Gyarados reared up and took in the scene with her fierce, hungry eyes as she waited for a command. She trembled with anticipation. Candela knew no other pokémon with such an intense drive to fight.

She couldn't waste time on awe. "Flicker, Kite, get ready," she said as her pokémon appeared at her side.

Spark called Marzipan back and stood close to Flicker, bracing himself.

"Use Surf!" Blanche shouted, and almost before their words were out, Gyarados gushed a torrent of water onto the horde of creatures blocking the path to the hall.

The water washed the creatures back and left them dizzy and drenched on the wet stone. As soon as the attack finished, Blanche called Gyarados back. Candela snapped her fingers and pointed at Blanche, signaling Kite to dive for the Mystic leader. The pidgeot bore Blanche into the air as Candela and Spark climbed onto Flicker's back, Candela taking the forward position. She spurred Flicker into a sprint across the cave floor, steam rising in his wake as his fiery hooves splashed through puddles.

Kite angled for the hallway with Flicker close on her tail. Over Candela's shoulder, several of the creatures regained their footing and made a dash for the retreating leaders. Sensing Candela's unease, Flicker picked up speed and raced into the dark hallway instants after Kite did. The pounding of his hoof beats was deafening inside the echo-chamber of the passage. Candela was considering covering her ears when she felt Spark's heat disappear from her back.

"Flicker, whoa!" she cried, and the ponyta slowed and danced a little, clearly not interested in coming to a full stop.

Behind them, Spark stood in the center of the hallway. Marzipan popped out of her ball next to him, still smiling obliviously as a wave of about a dozen of the creatures charged toward them.

"Spark, get back on the ponyta," Blanche demanded, still suspended in the air by Candela's pidgeot.

"Keep your pokémon out of hearing range," Spark said, as if he hadn't heard them. "Ready, Marzipan?"

The jigglypuff flexed an imaginary bicep. The creatures were closing the gap far too quickly, but neither Spark nor Marzipan seemed to care.

"Belt it out!" Spark cheered.

Candela cupped her hands over Flicker's ears, and in a flurry of feathers, Blanche and Kite withdrew deeper into the tunnel. Marzipan's song ricocheted off the walls until she was harmonizing with herself, knitting a complex melody that seemed to come from a choir rather than one small pokémon. The chilling music lifted the hair on Candela's arms, and she was glad that the move only influenced other pokémon. This was a one-of-a-kind performance.

The creatures succumbed one by one, falling to the side, tripping over each other, passing out between steps. But they didn't stay down. After a few seconds of stillness, each one hauled itself back up, shook the sleep from its eyes, and resumed the chase. At last, Marzipan looked appropriately surprised and concerned. Spark pulled her back into her ball and looked at Candela with a wavering, fearful smile.

"Shit," he said. "I guess we should run after all."

§

 **AN:** PoGo theory time. I noticed while watching my Valor fiancée use the appraisal function that Candela is surprisingly (per internet-wide headcanon) sweet when she talks about your pokémon. And my experience with Spark? He seems kind of distant and vague when he appraises my pokémon, which seems contrary to the cinnamon-bun-with-anxiety-issues image I have of him. My theory is that Candela truly, truly loves pokémon, and views power as a critical yet multi-faceted thing. She loves all pokémon and sees the value in all of them, and is excited to talk about them with her trainers, even the not "statistically" powerful pokémon. So why is Mr. Sunshine & Optimism himself so wishy-washy? I think Spark really doesn't like to appraise pokémon. He doesn't think they should be assigned value based on their IVs and stats. He sees why those things are important, but he feels uncomfortable when he's pressed to appraise a pokémon based on those factors. He hates doing appraisals and knows he has to limit himself to battle-significant traits, so he keeps it light and brief and maybe even a little cold. Candela just loves talking about pokémon in general, and while she puts a lot of pressure on herself to show no weakness, she's a lot more accepting when it comes to pokémon. It took her a while to get there, though. Ahem, so this was a bit of a ramble, but the internet was made for rambling theories about video games, right? Do you guys have any theories about the appraisal scripts in the game? Also, what teams are you? I'm asking for science. Maybe this isn't the forum for posing these questions. I've had a lot of caffeine today.

Also, I absolutely believe that Star Trek exists in the poké-verse. There had better be some Star Trek / Pokémon crossovers out there.

Also also, Flicker is one big ass ponyta. I went with anime sizing rather than actual pokédex sizing because, regardless of gumption, a three-foot fire-horse would probably have collapsed under Spark and Candela's weight. And that would have been an anticlimactic end to this story, at least for Spark and Candela.


	16. Chapter 16

Blanche kept their hands over Kite's ears as best they could while still clinging to the pidgeot's back. They didn't care for heights, but there hadn't been much choice in the matter. At least they'd managed to make it out of the first room. Blanche didn't like the look of those elongated, emaciated sandshrews. Was their appearance an adaptation to their environment over the centuries? Maybe this was just a different and particularly aggressive version of the sandshrews of home. There was another obvious answer, the one that Dr. Dillinger had provided, but Blanche preferred to exhaust every other option first.

As Marzipan's soporific melody faded away, Blanche resituated themself on Kite and guided her back up the hall, sputtering away the long, flowing feathers that tickled their nose. The hallway was darker than the cavern they'd slept in, but Flicker's mane cast a warm glow up the walls that illuminated Candela, his rider, and Spark, who still stood in the middle of the tunnel. Just beyond the glow of the ponyta's fire, the lanky, unsettling creatures closed in.

Marzipan's attack had failed.

"Damnit, Spark!" The words came from Candela's mouth, but Blanche shared the sentiment.

Candela spurred Flicker toward Spark and the swiftly approaching creatures. She rounded in front of the Instinct leader and he took her outstretched hand. She hauled him onto the back of her mount in one fluid, powerful motion.

"Jeez, you're strong!" Spark commented as Flicker bolted away from the creatures.

"What a surprise," Candela said with as much sarcasm as humanly possible. "Maybe if you worked out with me like you said you were going to, you too could have the strength to stay on the damn ponyta."

"I didn't fall off. I jumped," Spark said.

"Was one fucked up leg not enough for you? Were you going for two?" Candela snapped.

Blanche banked around a turn in the dim, crystal-lit hallway behind Flicker. Was the passage getting narrower? Or just darker? They hoped Kite could see better than they could.

"Candela, we need to focus on running. Save the bickering for later," Blanche said, tightening their grip on Kite's feathers. The pokémon squawked indignantly, and Blanche mumbled a quick apology.

"Look at that. Blanche is taking Spark's side again. Another huge surprise," Candela said, driving her heels into Flicker's sides to press him even faster.

Kite beat her wings furiously to keep up, nearly dislodging Blanche. Once they'd steadied themself, they replied to Candela. "I'm not taking a side. We can talk about this when we've found somewhere safe."

Candela laughed harshly. "Somewhere safe? _Nowhere_ is safe. Everywhere we go, there are mad scientists and evil experiments and mysterious portals, not to mention the horde of monsters currently chasing us. Which are definitely not pokémon, by the way!"

Spark twisted his head to see into the darkness behind them. "Candela, I wholeheartedly agree with what you're saying, but maybe we should stick a pin in it?"

Flicker deftly avoided one stalagmite, and then another. Blanche leaned forward, urging Kite to fly closer to the ground in case of hidden protrusions from the ceiling above. Kite soared along a few feet above and behind Flicker, tilting and tucking her wings to avoid the obstacles revealed by his flames. In the distance, Blanche thought they caught a glimpse of reddish light.

"I have been walking on eggshells with the two of you since we were reunited, and I'm starting to lose patience," Candela railed on. "I thought if I gave you some space, maybe you'd open up to me about what Dr. Dillinger did to you, because she clearly dealt some damage. But no, you're still leaving me out of the loop. How am I supposed to help you when you keep shutting me out?"

"I'm sorry that it feels that way. We didn't mean to leave you out, Candy," Spark said. "We can talk about everything once we're away from the sandshrew things, I promise!"

"Pinky swear!" Candela demanded, lifting her pinky for Spark to take.

Blanche rolled their eyes, but Spark obligingly hooked his pinky around Candela's and shook it.

"I swear! No more third wheels!" Spark avowed.

"I'm glad we're resolving some interpersonal tension, but now would be a good time to pay attention to the path," Blanche said.

Ahead, the reddish glow Blanche had glimpsed had expanded. Though it was difficult to make out, Blanche got the impression that it was the entrance to another room. Perhaps they could make a stand there, taking advantage of the open space. Gyarados's Surf had knocked out a handful of the creatures, proving they weren't completely immune to attacks.

The closer they got, the larger the space ahead appeared to be. The tunnel sloped up in a way that obscured the lower portion of the room, revealing only a high, distant wall, painted with orange light from below, but vanishing into purple darkness above.

"We should slow down," Spark said with an air of grim authority.

"Are you crazy?" Candela asked, but she pulled back on Flicker's neck a little, bringing the all-out sprint down to a steady gallop.

Blanche wrinkled their nose at the stink of rotten eggs that permeated the air. "Sulfur," they said. "You two hang back a little. I'll fly ahead."

Kite accelerated and passed Flicker. There was only one thing Blanche could think of that would produce such a smell so deep within a mountain. As Kite exited the tunnel into the open space, Blanche's fears were confirmed. A wave of heat struck them with the force of a physical object, knocking Kite higher into the air. After a brief moment of panic on the parts of both pokémon and rider, Kite adjusted her flight to accommodate the hot air that continued to bolster her upwards.

Far below them, a river of lava roiled and seethed, warping the air with its heat. The hallway they'd traveled through opened onto a narrow, arching stone bridge that connected to the opposite wall, where another tunnel waited. Blanche fought to breathe normally, but the oxygen seemed to sear their lungs. They could tolerate this for a little while, but more than a few minutes, and they'd be – quite literally – toast.

"Candela! Stay back!" Blanche shouted, leaning to the side to encourage Kite to turn back for the tunnel. The updrafts from the lava buffeted Kite, and Blanche again had to tighten their hold, or else plummet to a fiery death. Kite couldn't stay stable in these conditions. They'd have to land.

Flicker cantered to the edge of the passageway and stopped, lifting his feet anxiously and tossing his head back. Candela stroked his neck in an effort to calm him while she took in their new environment. She waved up to Blanche, who struggled to angle Kite down for a landing.

"You OK, Blanche?" Candela shouted above the growl of churning lava.

"I'm fine, but I don't think Kite can fly in here and carry a passenger at the same time," Blanche said. "Are the creatures still following?"

Spark squinted into the tunnel. "We've put some distance on them, but I don't think we've lost them. What do we do?"

Kite finally touched down a few feet from Candela and crouched low to the ground so Blanche could dismount. Candela thanked her and returned her to her pokéball.

"Our only choice is to take the bridge," Blanche said, grateful to be on solid ground again, but dreading the crossing. "It's quite narrow. I'm not sure if it can hold the weight of three people and a ponyta, but I'm afraid Spark won't be able to keep his balance with his ankle like it is. He'll need to stay on Flicker."

Spark winced, but didn't argue. He shifted on Flicker's back to watch the tunnel. "I think I can hear them. We'd better move. Flicker and I can take up the rear so we don't put too much weight in the front of the group."

Blanche eyed him suspiciously.

Spark caught their look and sighed. "I'm not trying to pull anything, Blanche, I'm just trying to make sure we all get across without taking a lava bath."

Deep in the tunnel, Blanche heard claws skittering on rock. "Fine," they said. "Let's go as quickly as we can."

Blanche took the lead, placing their feet carefully, but keeping a swift pace. Candela followed on foot several feet behind them, dispersing the group's weight as much as possible without getting too far apart. The bridge tapered to its thinnest point in the middle, and each step toward it filled Blanche with escalating anxiety. They told themself to look ahead, not directly down, and certainly not toward the raging molten river below. Sweat stung their eyes, and on top of the sulfur stench, they picked up the bitter smell of singed hair. They almost missed the numbing cold of the crystal cavern.

Almost.

Blanche tried to ignore how their legs felt like clumsy, heavy tree trunks as they reached the middle of the bridge. It was about as wide as an average sidewalk and at least four feet deep, but even though Blanche had never tripped off of a sidewalk, the thought didn't reassure them as much as they'd hoped. The hot breath of the volcano unsteadied them and whipped their hair into their eyes. They froze for a moment and caught their breath.

"Halfway there, Blanche," Candela said behind them. "Keep going!"

Angry chattering and growling sounded from further back as the creatures reached the end of the passage. Blanche risked a backwards glance and found that, rather than immediately climbing onto the bridge, the creatures skittishly darted back and forth in the tunnel's mouth. Good, they weren't quite ready to risk death in pursuit of them.

Blanche took a few more steps, hunching over to lower their center of gravity. They were on the home stretch, and the path widened again, if only slightly. They could make it.

Blanche felt the bridge shift before they heard the deep, stomach-turning crack. Flicker whinnied and snorted, appropriately spooked. The creatures began to scream, a furious, bone-chilling chorus.

"Easy, Flicker! Calm down!" Candela coaxed.

Blanche watched over their shoulder as Candela and Spark attempted to soothe the terrified ponyta, who reared and kicked as a split formed in the bridge beneath his hooves. Behind them, one of the creatures identified the opportunity to advance on its distracted prey. It huddled low to the ground and crawled toward them, snarling and foaming but moving slowly.

"They're coming!" Blanche said, their voice cracking.

Spark swung off of Flicker's back, though there was barely enough room for him to do so. "Candela, call him back! He's going to take down the bridge!"

And then a change came over Spark's face. Something lit up in him, and he reached for a pokéball at his waist. He nodded to Candela, and she called Flicker back into his ball. She reached for Spark so he could lean on her, and the two of them shuffled toward Blanche as Spark readied his pokéball.

"We're so close! Just a few more feet!" Spark encouraged Blanche, his smile shifting the bandage on his cheek.

The bandage… the first aid kit they'd used, and that Blanche had meant to add to the duffel of supplies. Not that it mattered, seeing as though that duffel was currently sitting abandoned on the other side of a crumbling bridge and a pack of ferocious beasts. They were doomed, whether or not they made it across the bridge. They would die alone in the dark, and none of this would matter.

"Snap out of it, Blanche!" Candela said, suddenly much closer than Blanche had expected. "We've got to keep moving!"

Blanche took a few shaky steps. The creatures' growls came from much too close for comfort, and they heard Spark call for his chivalrously-named sandslash. Did he intend to fight their attackers on the bridge? Had he lost his mind? They were afraid to look back.

"Sir Slashalot! Keep close to me and don't attack!" Spark instructed.

Blanche didn't feel much relief from the fact that he wasn't trying to battle the not-really-sandshrews. But they had to trust him, even though that had become harder and harder to do lately. The other tunnel was only a few feet away now, and they hurried to reach it. As soon as they did, Blanche pressed themself against the tunnel wall, their heart racing, sweat pasting their hair to their brow.

Spark and Candela remained on the bridge, slowed by Spark's uneven gait, with Sir Slashalot behind them, shaking his bristles menacingly at a pair of creatures that were closing the distance between themselves and their quarry. What was Spark planning?

As if to answer them, Spark gave his sandslash a new command. "Use Dig to go to Blanche!"

Even Sir Slashalot looked confused by the order as he tilted his narrow head at Spark. But, trusting of his master as he was, he burrowed into the bridge, causing another booming series of cracking sounds. Candela tugged Spark along until they reached the inside of the passageway, where they both tripped and collapsed to the floor, laughing giddily at having escaped the jaws of death.

But not quite yet.

Sir Slashalot burst from the ground in a spray of gravel next to Blanche, and they clutched their hand over their heart in surprise. On the bridge, the creatures gained confidence and speed now that no pokémon stood in their way.

"Candela, I need Flicker!" Spark said, and Candela immediately called the ponyta back out.

Candela grinned, picking up what Spark intended at the same time as Blanche. Once Flicker materialized, she gave the command. "Use Stomp!"

Flicker, standing just inside of the hallway, drove his hooves into the ground. A massive split formed in the rock, which had been weakened by Sir Slashalot's tunneling. It zigzagged up the bridge, toward the creatures, then spread outward. In seconds, the closest sections of bridge fell away in chunks, careening down toward the lava flow.

Seeing the danger, the creatures about-faced and scampered away from the disintegrating end of the bridge. They leapt from one tumbling portion of stone to another, fleeing for their lives until they scrambled into the safety of the hallway from which they'd come. When the final pieces of bridge fell away, only half of the structure remained.

The team leaders caught their breath as the creatures hissed and paced on the other side, unable to reach them. One by one, the beasts gave up and retreated into the shadows of the hallway. Only then did Spark and Candela high five each other on the tunnel floor and dissolve into manic giggles. They sprawled on their backs at Blanche's feet, holding their stomachs, unable to contain the escalating laughter. Flicker danced around them, kicking his hooves, but the regal Sir Slashalot simply stood by and waited for Spark to calm down.

When he did, Spark pulled the sandslash into a hug on the ground, noogying him playfully as he squirmed to escape. "You did it, Slashy! Nice work! You too, Flicker!"

Sir Slashalot gave up his protests and let himself be coddled for a few more seconds before Spark returned him to his ball. Candela reached up and retracted Flicker as well, finally overcoming her fit of mirth.

"I don't see what's so funny," Blanche said, wiping their sweaty hair from their face.

Spark sat up. "Come on, Blanche. What's the harm in celebrating another successful incident of miraculously not dying?"

Blanche pushed off the wall and tried hopelessly to put their torn and singed clothes back in order. "We may have escaped those creatures for now, but there's no telling what else is waiting for us in the dark. Not only that, but we have no food or water. We have precious little to celebrate at the moment."

Candela groaned and covered her face with her hands. "OK, Captain Buzzkill, we get it, we're still in deep shit. But can't you appreciate the fact that we're still alive?"

"Of course I can, and I'd like to keep us that way," Blanche said. "However, I can't ignore that the odds are stacked against us."

Spark used the wall to stand up, then offered a hand to Candela. "Sure, but that's when we do our best, right?"

Candela took Spark's hand, but didn't put much weight on it. She sprang to her feet, dusted herself off, and used the back of her hand to whisk the sweat from her forehead. Apparently, staring death in its volcanic face had turned her sour mood around. She patted Blanche's cheek.

"Cheer up, Blanche. Spark is right. I'm just as sick of this cave as you are, but the only way to go is forward. So, let's keep marching! Because I'm ready to cash in on Spark's promise, and I'd rather do it somewhere less… melty."

Blanche brushed past her and started down the hallway, their path lit by more of those cursed crystals. "Fine. Let's go."

They didn't care that Spark and Candela whispered something behind their back. The situation was more and more grave, and their casual treatment of yet another close call grated Blanche's nerves. They were tired of just barely surviving, and they weren't sure how long they could keep it up.

So let Candela call them a buzzkill, even if she'd been the one complaining about the same dire odds not 15 minutes before. Blanche didn't care. They'd be the buzzkill that would get everyone out alive.

§

 **AN:** At this rate, I'll need to put jaguarspot on payroll for continuity control! I want to keep driving the action forward, but also allowing moments for the team leaders to slow down and address the heavy crap they're going through. Balancing my pacing against that sometimes results in details being swept under the rug to deal with later. For example, Candela and Blanche were supposed to address Candela's "Spark isn't Spark, Blanche isn't Blanche, what the hell happened before you found me and why do you both look like roadkill?" concern in chapter 15, but the conversation didn't naturally flow in favor of that, and I had to make way for the next plot point. So I reworked the original intent of the scene and transferred it to this chapter instead. Some details are intentionally set aside for me to come back to, but sometimes (often), my squirrelly brain forgets where I put those details. So if I have some plotholes to fill, certainly let me know! Because maybe I know about them… or maybe I accidentally lost them under the rug. Whatever the case, I what this story to be fun and detailed and twisty, and don't want you to be thrown off by idiosyncrasies!

Also, I'm limiting the leaders to 3 pokémon each on this expedition… because even with half teams, it's still a lot of new characters to work with! Maybe they only travel with 3 pokémon because they feel they have an unfair advantage as team leaders as it is.

Another note: If you're reading this story right as it comes out, know that while I do try to push out a new chapter every few days, there may be some bigger gaps coming up soon. Don't worry! Ol' Quixi isn't losing steam! But as I'm writing this in October 2016, I'm getting married next month. The day after Pokémon Sun & Moon comes out, actually. The point is, the next couple months are going to be a wildly busy time for me, so if I'm quiet for a bit, know that the story isn't abandoned. If you're worried, though, my inbox is always open for questions, and it's easier to shoot an answer back than it is to pop out a chapter!

Pardon the long notes on these past chapters. 3 Thank you again for your support! (And happy belated birthday, xxReaderxx!)


	17. Chapter 17

Candela didn't always pick up on the emotional states of others, at least not other people, but it didn't require a great deal of intuition to tell that Blanche wasn't in the mood to talk just yet. Blanche led the group through the hallway with the icy ferocity of a January cold front. Maybe they didn't see it in themself, but Candela recognized a temper tantrum when she saw one.

Not that Blanche had no reason to be upset. Honestly, they had every reason. As much of a daredevil as Candela liked to be, this deathtrap was weighing on her, too. But moping around and throwing a fit, even in Blanche's saturnine style, didn't do any good. Yes, Candela was angry and scared and starting to think this could be her last adventure, but shy of her outburst about being third-wheeled, she thought she was managing the situation fairly well.

Next to Candela, Spark rode Flicker and swayed with the rhythm of the ponyta's stride. She didn't like how uncharacteristically sullen he was. He kept his eyes forward, but they looked dull and unfocused, like he wasn't really seeing anything. Candela kept waiting for him to make some goofy joke about the bland and unchanging subterranean landscape, but he never did. She thought of him tossing and turning in his sleep back in the first room. She desperately wanted to know what was going on with him and Blanche, but that conversation was on hold while Blanche was still cooling off.

Between the suspense and the silence, Candela's nerves could only endure so much.

Granted, it wasn't total silence. There were the two sets of human footsteps, and the _kuh-klup, kuh-klup_ of Flicker's hooves. And something else… a rushing whisper, very quiet, very regular. It hadn't been there a few minutes ago. Was she hearing things now? Or was that water?

Candela's foot splashed into a puddle, and she exclaimed in surprise. The others halted and looked at her with fearful expectation in their eyes.

"It's OK, it's just water," Candela said, trying to put them at ease. "Jeez, you guys are so jumpy."

"You're the one who just got spooked by a puddle," Spark pointed out.

Candela shook her foot in an attempt to dry her shoe. A joke made at her expense was better than utter silence, she supposed. She walked ahead of Blanche, listening for the water she'd heard before. The further she went, the louder the sound.

"Do you hear that?" she asked.

Blanche cocked their head to the side. "It sounds close. We should watch our step."

The party continued forward at a slow, cautious pace, lest a misstep throw them into an underground river, or drop them through a floor made brittle by water flowing beneath it. All the while, the sound grew and became complex. An almost cheerful burbling, the echoes of dripping water, the hush of a brook over uneven ground.

Candela turned a corner, and the hallway expanded into a wide, cylindrical space, much like the subway tunnels of home. Instead of rails, a small stream swerved along the ground, five feet across at its broadest. It entered the room from a small, circular hole in the cave wall not too far from the hallway the leaders stood in. Crystals hung in clusters from the ceiling, emitting that calm, blue light, reflected in crooked, dancing patterns by the water. It would have been pretty if Candela weren't sick to death of glowing crystals.

Candela ventured forward, eyes peeled for hidden dangers in the seemingly tranquil oasis. She knelt by the stream and dipped a few fingers in, creating a series of tiny eddies and swirls in the clear, shallow water. The temperature was disappointingly lukewarm, but Candela wasn't picky. She cupped some to her mouth and sipped. The liquid soothed her parched throat and revived her dry tongue.

"Candela! We can't know if it's safe to drink," Blanche chastised, but knelt next to her nonetheless.

Candela lifted another handful of water to her lips. "Oh, relax. Would you rather die of dehydration?"

"I'd rather _not_ die of a microbial infection from drinking river water," Blanche said.

Candela shrugged. "Suit yourself. Spark?"

Spark dismounted and, walking gingerly, joined Candela and Blanche by the water. "Isn't volcanic rock supposed to be good for purifying water? I think I read that in a book somewhere," he said as he sat next to Candela and trailed his hand in the water. He brushed his wet hand through his hair and around his neck, cooling himself off and leaving streaks on his dusty skin. He flinched as his fingers touched the butterfly closure Blanche had placed over a small cut near his temple.

"OK, a couple things," Candela said. "Number one: you read things other than comics? And number two: is everyone finally ready to talk about why you look like death warmed over?"

Suddenly, Blanche appeared to be fixated with their reflection in the ripples of the stream, and Spark chanced a drink of water, taking his time to do so. Candela tapped her fingers impatiently. Were they really doing this? She held up her pinky to Spark and waggled it back and forth.

"A promise is a promise," she reminded him.

Spark smirked and crossed his pinky with hers again. "I know, I know. It's hard to know where to start."

"How about the beginning? Would it help if I told you more of my story?" Candela asked.

"Perhaps," said Blanche, still watching the water.

"OK, let's see," Candela said, leaning back. "I woke up in a chair in some kind of office. Very stalactite-chic. Dr. Dillinger was there to greet me, and I thought she was just an obnoxious, awkward scientist trying to recruit me to her creepy cave lab. She said she knew about me through her ex, the Professor, and wanted me on her team. Said her hypno had shared my dreams with her using that diode. I didn't take the bait to join her, so she told me to think it over and look through some of her research while she took care of something elsewhere. Which must have been you guys."

"I believe so," Blanche agreed.

"You seemed pretty torn up about her research when we were reunited," Spark prompted. "What's Dr. Evil been up to, other than trapping legendary pokémon and using them to open a portal to a dimension of nightmarish sandshrew monsters?"

Candela's chest felt tight as she mentally reviewed the contents of Dillinger's binders. She remembered how shocked she'd been at first, how certain she was that she was misreading statistics or not understanding the intent of the studies. Because what she saw couldn't be real. Nobody could do that to pokémon. There couldn't be that many casualties.

And yet, the truth was there, in cold sets of numbers detailing the number and nature of the deaths.

She shuddered, and Spark placed a warm hand on her back. "Candela?"

"I'm sorry," she said, shaking herself from the memories. She'd made a promise. "The reports I read all had to do with creating a psychic bond with pokémon. But it wasn't like Dillinger was just trying to just communicate with pokémon or anything. She was trying to puppet them. No commands or anything, just straight from her brain to her pokémon. At first, it sort of made sense. I mean, think of how close you could be with your team, you know? But then…"

Her reflection shivered in the water as she tossed a pebble into it. She hadn't expected this to be so hard to talk about. But she had to. Blanche and Spark needed to know.

"She carved out the personalities of the pokémon she experimented on. Lobotomies, neural surgery, every kind of risky, painful, evil procedure you can imagine, just to create these shells that she could control. But it didn't work. Dozens of pokémon died during surgery, and dozens more didn't survive the recovery. Their deaths were horrible and agonizing and… and…"

She took a moment to collect herself as Blanche and Spark quietly absorbed the information. Flicker stood behind her and nudged the back of her head gently with his soft nose. Candela turned her eyes toward the star-like crystals above Flicker's shoulder, trying to prevent herself from tearing up. All those ruined lives, and for what?

"The ones that made it to the field experimentation stage didn't last long, either," she continued. "Dr. Dillinger would have a little success, and then the pokémon would suffer fatal seizures, or simply collapse without warning, or… even after having so much of themselves removed, there were still pokémon who just… gave up. Stopped eating, stopped moving. They chose to die to get away from her."

Spark placed his hand over his mouth and stared at the wall across the stream. Tears danced in his eyes, brightening their natural blue. For once, Candela couldn't fault him for being oversensitive. Not after what she'd read.

"Dr. Dillinger isn't a scientist. She's a murderer," Candela said. "I was enraged when she came back to the office, and when she said she'd killed the two of you, I knew she had it in her. I felt this crazy rush of power, which must have been because of Moltres, and I tried to attack her. But Hypno put me to sleep, and the next thing I knew, I was in that stone chair. But something odd happened. Based on the studies I'd read, Dillinger had scooped out the personalities of her experimental subjects, leaving them basically hollow, devoid of identity. But Hypno isn't like that, and I know that because he deliberately didn't tell Dillinger about my dreams that second time."

"In all the chaos, I keep forgetting to ask about what happened to him," Spark said, rubbing the wetness from his eye. "Did he run off while we were sleeping?"

"He did," Blanche said. Their voice carried a soft, subdued sorrow. Maybe the understanding was finally sinking in.

"I'm terrified that he went back to Dillinger. I think he might be one of the few, if not the only, pokémon to have survived her procedure. Maybe that will stop her from killing him, but she's made threats before, and… I feel awful," Candela said.

Flicker nibbled at her hair, and she reached up to pet the soft, velvety fur of his cheek. Her ponyta had always been a little neurotic and skittish, and it moved her that he would set aside his own fear to comfort her and help her friends. Dillinger didn't need diodes to communicate with pokémon. She just needed a heart.

"So, that's my story," Candela said. "Now it's your turn. Spark, you mentioned something back in the throne room about 'mad scientist hide-and-seek'?"

"Something like that, yeah," Spark said. He fidgeted with a smooth rock as he spoke, rolling it between his fingers. "I woke up in a dark maze. Dr. Dillinger showed up to bully me for a while, trying to convince me that I'd been left behind to die, lots of cheerful stuff like that. Then there was this earthquake, and rush of power, and legendary bird blah-blah-blah, we all know this bit. I escaped from Dillinger by tumbling down some stairs. After that, I ran into Blanche."

He spoke so stiffly that he barely sounded like Spark at all. "Uh… OK, and then what?" Candela asked.

"Dr. Dillinger had designed a situation to play into both of our fears," Blanche said, picking up Spark's slack. "Like she did with you, she asked me to join her lab. When I turned down the offer, she made it clear that I didn't really have a choice. She threatened to kill Spark unless I convinced him that I was joining Dillinger of my own free will. She didn't want him trying to save me. Of course, we know now that the true goal of all of her little games was to incite the powerful emotions that link us with the birds. She never intended to kill or recruit any of us."

Candela flicked another pebble into the stream as she mulled over the information. "So, I take it you managed to convince Spark into letting you go?"

Blanche hesitated. "…Yes. I used Resolute to drive him back."

Whether he was aware of it or not, Spark's hand lifted to the bandage on his cheek, and Candela put it together.

"Shit, Blanche!" she said, touching her own cheek in sympathy. That welt had to have come from Resolute's Vine Whip. She'd seen Blanche pull a one-hit KO with that move. Resolute must have held back, but it still would have packed a punch.

Blanche shifted uncomfortably and blinked in that quick, fluttering way of someone dispelling would-be tears. "After Spark left, I also attempted to confront Dillinger, and connected with Articuno in that moment. I tried to pickpocket the pokéballs from Dillinger's coat, but was only able to grab that key we used on the portal. Dillinger attacked me with a jynx, and I passed out. Spark found me and got me out of the cavern before I could freeze to death. He saved my life."

They said the last sentence slowly and deliberately. There was another layer of meaning to what they were saying, but Candela couldn't quite decipher it. Blanche clearly felt guilty about what happened, but there was something more.

"At best, I spared some toes from frostbite," Spark dismissed. "Like you said, Dr. D wasn't out to kill anybody."

"Not intentionally, no. But I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn't come back for me," Blanche said.

"Why _did_ you come back for them?" When Blanche shot her a look, Candela added, "I mean, they convinced you to go, right? What brought you back?"

Spark pressed his lips together in that tight, silly grin he tended to pull before saying something absurd.

Candela hurried to cut him off. "Don't you dare say-"

"Instinct, mostly," Spark said.

Candela dragged her hand down her face dramatically. At least he was being himself for a second. His obnoxious, incorrigible self.

"I'm serious!" Spark said, elbowing her. "I knew something was up with Blanche, and so I hid for a while, then went back to find them."

"But you _didn't_ know something was wrong. Not right away," Blanche said. "You truly believed that I would say and do those things to you."

"But… wasn't that the goal? For you to make him believe that?" Candela asked. Neither Blanche nor Spark made a move to answer. This was getting ridiculous. "OK, I get that we all went through some heavy shit, and it's not easy to talk about. But I feel like I'm missing something big here, and would appreciate it if the two of you could break up the 'Spark and Blanche Show' and let me in for a minute. What is it that I'm not seeing?"

"We told you everything," Blanche said.

"Ugh, it's like pulling teeth with you," Candela complained. "You guys talked this stuff out, right? Spark, you know Blanche didn't mean what they said, yeah? And Blanche, you did what you had to do to protect Spark. Sheesh, are we back in grade school?"

"It's more… complicated than that," Blanche said.

"Then explain it to me, because there's still something not right between you two, and it's starting to drive me crazy," Candela said.

"I'm the thing that's not right, Candela," Spark said with a wincing, uncomfortable smile.

"I don't understand…"

Spark looked everywhere but directly at Candela. "This is another one of those hard things to talk about. But I don't want to keep leaving you out and hoping things get better on their own."

He paused, and Candela nodded encouragingly for him to proceed. He clasped his hands together, stilling their nervous motion, and continued.

"Honestly, if I'd been Blanche, I'd have left me behind. I guess that's why I was so ready to believe them. Because I see myself as a burden to you both, and I keep being proven right at every turn. I'm a perpetual failure. An embarrassment. An idiot. When I told Blanche how I felt, I think I wigged them out a little. Am I right, Blanche?"

Blanche fumbled for words. "I… no, I mean, that is…"

Spark laughed. "It's OK. Because what are you supposed to say when someone tells you that kind of stuff? You can't say, 'No! That's not true!' because they'll just argue with you. You can't agree with them either, because that's just more fuel for their self-pity. So you're stuck, and you feel terrible for any little thing you've ever said that might have hurt this pathetic friend of yours. And you're hyperaware of everything you say from then on out."

His voice had grown gradually louder and more frantic, and Candela could only sit in shock and let him finish. Blanche kept their face turned away, but their ears had turned red.

"Not only that, but you feel like you have to watch that friend's every move, because who knows what they'll do next? Will you have to talk them down from a panic attack? Will they fling themself into a risky situation that you'll have to save them from? You can't trust them anymore, and you hate it, and some part of you is afraid that their life is in your hands. So you're extra careful, and extra kind, and you flinch when other people don't baby your friend like you do."

"Spark, stop," Blanche said, a quiet contrast to the loud, nervous energy of his speech.

"I… I'm sorry," Spark said, lowering his volume and blushing. "I, uh, guess I'd been storing some things up."

Candela whistled. "No kidding, buddy. I don't know what to say."

"Exactly," Spark said. "I shouldn't have said all of that. I know I'm putting you guys into an awkward situation, and I really, really wish I could stop, but I-"

Candela stopped him by hooking her arm around his shoulder and yanking him into a tight hug. She caught Blanche with her other arm and pulled them in before they could protest. She held them both close, savoring their heat and the rhythm of their breathing. Then she pushed them away again.

"Uh, you feeling OK, Candy?" Spark asked, still visibly reeling from the sudden display of affection.

"You're both idiots," Candela said. Blanche scoffed but didn't interrupt. "But you're my idiots, and you're supposed to talk to me about this crap. I wish I had the right words for you, Spark, but I don't. All I have is the promise that whether you're a failure or not, you're one of my favorite people, and I'll always have your back. You two, Blanche. We're gonna figure this out, and we're gonna get out of this fucking cave, and maybe we're all gonna have to go to therapy. Who knows."

Spark chuckled and playfully shoved Candela's shoulder. "I can't believe I've gotten away with calling you 'Candy' at least twice now, and you haven't said a thing."

Candela shoved him back, nearly knocking him over. "You're pushing your luck, Sparky. Don't get used to hugs, either."

It felt so good to see him laugh. Even Blanche cracked a smile. Candela really wanted to know the best thing to say, the thing that would pull him out of… whatever this rut was. She wanted to ask him more questions, reassure him that he wasn't a failure. He just thought differently. Would he understand her if she tried to explain that? She didn't want to spoil the moment, that laugh that took over his whole body, that sunshiny smile, just like…

No, not just like Joule. But maybe not unlike him, either.

Something soft thumped against stone behind Candela, and Flicker reared and whinnied in alarm. The three leaders jumped to their feet, wide-eyed, electrified by adrenaline.

There, alone in the middle of the cavern, was Blanche's duffel.

§

 **AN:** Thanks for all the well-wishes! So many warm-fuzzies! Gawrsh, I'm blushing! OK, trying to break the trend of long notes today, but did want to note that, yes, I also totally believe the Austin Powers film series exists in this pokémon universe, and that Mr. Bigglesworth is a glameow in it, and that Spark and Candela love ridiculous movies like that (to Blanche's horror). This is in relation to Spark's "Dr. Evil" comment. Also, this was an unexpectedly difficult chapter to write, and shouldn't have taken as long as it did.


	18. Chapter 18

Spark caught Blanche's elbow as they staggered backward, soaking their shoe in the stream but not seeming to care. Their eyes remained fixed on the duffel bag, and Spark could practically see the series of calculations rushing through their brain. He wasn't sure if he was more alarmed by the abrupt appearance of the bag, or by Blanche's reaction.

Candela stepped forward with Flicker, head swiveling, desperately searching for the source of the item. But the room was as empty as before. Not a breath out of place, not a sound beyond their beating hearts and the hollow rush of water exiting the cavern.

"Kite, scout the area," Candela instructed as she released her pidgeot from her ball. "Flicker, keep your light close to us."

Kit zipped through the long room as Candela haltingly approached the bag.

"Stay back!" Blanche exclaimed.

"Don't you think if someone had time to plant the bag and escape, they'd have had time to attack us by now?" Candela grinned back at them, but Spark sensed that she lacked her usual confidence.

"It does seem kinda convoluted for a booby-trap," Spark said, pulling Blanche forward and out of the water. "Just a random bag plopped in the middle of a cave? We had our backs turned for a while. Why didn't they just come at us from behind?"

Blanche swallowed hard and gripped one of their pokéballs tightly. "I suppose. But that's not a random bag, Spark. It's the one I packed but left behind when the sandshrew creatures attacked. There's no reason for it to be here. Be careful, Candela."

Candela crouched by the duffel and, with two slightly trembling fingers, unzipped it. She leaned back, as if something might burst out at her. When nothing did, she slipped her hand into the bag and pulled out three familiar metal rings.

Spark's head ached at the mere memory of Dr. Dillinger's torture devices. "What? I thought you guys would have thrown those things away!"

"We did," Candela said. "I mean, as much as it was possible for us to. I hurled them into a junk pile back where we landed. We had no intention of taking them with us."

"So why are they here?" Spark asked.

Blanche crept toward the bag as if it were laced with explosives. They flinched as Kite wheeled back to Candela and hovered in the air by her trainer.

"Nothing, huh?" Candela asked. Kite's plumage drooped in confirmation, and Candela returned her to her ball.

"This doesn't make sense," Blanche said, kneeling by the bag and peering at the contents. "I left this on the other side of the lava bridge we destroyed."

"There must be other ways across," Candela said.

Spark shivered. "Which means those creatures can still reach us."

Blanche took one of the rings from Candela. It gleamed orange and blue from Flicker's flames and the surrounding crystals. "Dr. Dillinger called these prototypes, did she not?"

Spark hobbled forward, a cold weight forming in his chest. "I think so. What are you getting at?"

"Someone or something deliberately brought us this bag of supplies _and_ these circlets. The supplies are useful to us, but we have no need for instruments of torture," Blanche said.

Candela gave a false laugh. "Really? Because I think Dr. Dillinger would look _wonderful_ wearing one of her own creations."

Blanche's knuckles whitened around the ring. "Absolutely not. That's not how we operate. What I'm trying to say is that Dillinger's hypno brought these to us for a reason, and I think I know what that reason is."

Spark felt like he'd missed a few stops on Blanche's train of thought. "You think Hypno did this? Why didn't he stick around?"

"Because he intends to aid us from afar somehow," Blanche replied, as though it were obvious. "Candela, do you have Dillinger's communicator?"

Candela warily handed the device to Blanche, her face betraying the same distrust and uncertainty that Spark was experiencing. "Blanche, they're failed experiments. They're nothing more than headache-machines. I know you're obnoxiously smart, but do you really think you can fix a project that a team of researchers probably worked for years to develop?"

"I don't think there's much to fix," Blanche said as they tapped the communicator's screen. "It struck me as strange, when I was removing these circlets, that Dr. Dillinger would be able to wield such control over devices she considered dysfunctional. Perhaps these aren't perfect, or else she wouldn't have risked implanting a better device in her own head, but they must still hold value. Look at this program she's created for it."

Spark and Candela leaned over Blanche's shoulder as they thumbed through a series of digital buttons. Blanche selected a button labeled CIRC3, which opened a series of additional options, including "ACTIVATE," "FIT," "SEARCH," and "STATIC." They clicked ACTIVATE, and one of the circlets buzzed, the circuitry on the inside of its band coming to life.

"My guess is that these circlets are fully functional and were used for experiments before Dillinger perfected her implanted diode. Why else would she manufacture three identical, technologically-complex devices if she knew the first one was a failure? No, these aren't prototypes. They may be faulty and imperfect, but they're usable," Blanche said, lifting the activated circlet toward their head.

"Whoa, hold on a sec!" Spark said, lunging to stop Blanche's hands before they could don the device. "What if your theory is wrong? You could scramble your brains with that thing!"

Blanche pulled their hands away. "I'm merely inspecting it. However, I'm confident in my theory, and believe the hypno is trying to assist us."

Candela crossed her arms. "When I talked to you before, you were pretty anti-Hypno. Why the change of heart?"

"After hearing you describe Team Rocket's experiments in greater detail, I realized I may have misjudged the hypno's character. At the time, I was… emotionally compromised," Blanche said, and the words seemed to pain them.

Spark didn't remember Candela and Blanche discussing Hypno before, but he could easily imagine Blanche saying something cold and dismissive regarding the pokémon who'd essentially saved them all from becoming Dillinger's thralls. There was something more going on, though. Cautious, logical Blanche wasn't prone to rushing into dangerous experiments like this. That sort of rash behavior was entirely unlike them, regardless of their change of heart.

"It's not that you trust Hypno. You're just curious." Spark hadn't meant to voice his realization like that. It had simply come out.

Blanche dropped the circlet back into the bag, suddenly flustered.

"It's OK! I'm curious about it, too," Spark reassured them as they nervously tightened their ponytail. "Dr. Dillinger might be the evilest thing that's ever lived, but it's hard not to be interested in her research."

Blanche cleared their throat. "Yes, it's true that I'm curious about her invention. But I do have a different perspective on her hypno, too. These circlets could be the key to our escape."

"And a healthy dose of revenge," Candela added, making a show of cracking her knuckles. "But to do that, one of us has to put one of these bad boys on. I think it should be me."

Flicker whinnied in protest and stamped his hooves.

"I have a really bad feeling about this, Candela. I don't think we should risk it," Spark said. He looked to Blanche for support, but they didn't come to his aid.

"And I think we _need_ to risk it," Candela said as she picked up the active circlet and held it gently between her fingertips. Her cocky grin faded for a moment as she met Spark's pleading eyes. "This isn't just for us. This is for Hypno, and for every one of the dozens of pokémon who died because of one crazy scientist. If this can help us find Dillinger and stop her, then we can't not try. Think of the risk Hypno took for us."

"I get it, I do, but something doesn't feel right, and my gut feelings usually mean something," Spark argued.

Blanche perked up a little, but didn't directly address what he'd said. "We don't have much battery left, and it's chancy to use an electric pokémon to recharge it. We need to make a decision."

"Candela, I think Dr. Dillinger and her team need to be brought to justice somehow, and my heart is broken for all the pokémon who suffered because of her, but there is a reason these rings double as torture devices. Think about it. The guy who is notorious for accurate gut feelings and having a problem with impulse control is telling you to slow down and reconsider," Spark said.

Candela considered him for several long seconds. He wondered if she was pulling her punches because of his rambling, awkward admission of self-doubt a few minutes before. But he was sure of how he felt now. Of course he wanted to trust Hypno. Of course he wanted to find Team Rocket and set them straight. But he also wanted to keep his friends safe, and maybe they'd all be better off if they kept marching and ignored the circlets.

At last, Candela shook her head. "No, Spark. If Hypno left these here, they must be important."

"Then let me do it," Spark said, and smirked. "I don't have much of a brain to scramble anyway."

"Now that I know you're not joking when you say nasty crap about yourself, I'm not putting up with it, so don't you dare," Candela said, shaking a finger at him like a scolding parent. "Listen. I'm trying to be practical here. You and Blanche have already gone toe-to-toe with death too many times for comfort. It's about time I had my chance."

Spark again looked to Blanche, hoping for something, anything. But they simply stared at Candela, calculating and weighing invisible variables behind those piercing, analytical eyes. They were trying to be rational, to lock out the emotions that had tainted their judgment before. Spark wished they could incorporate those feelings into their reasoning. He hated being pitted against them like this. The softhearted fool versus the heartless robot. There was so much more than that.

"Hey, Blanche, any input at all on this?" Spark asked as gently yet emphatically as he could.

Blanche steepled their fingers and closed their eyes. "I value your concern, Spark. We'll proceed with extreme caution. The moment something goes awry, we'll abort the experiment."

Spark's mouth fell open. "What? Do you hear yourself? This is _not_ an experiment! This is Candela we're talking about!"

"And I'm right here, and I'm consenting," Candela said.

Her eyes burned a bright and unyielding gold, twin stars in the night sky of her face. She would not be contradicted. Her word was law. In his mind, Spark imagined the royal figure in curving, flame-inspired armor from the carved door. He'd lost the fight.

And Candela knew it. She smiled at Spark, but it wasn't condescending. It was kind. "Hold them to it, Spark. If it goes south, we'll stop. Shall we?"

Gritting his teeth, Spark nodded. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Candela said, placing the circlet on her brow. "Blanche?"

Blanche selected an item on the communicator. "Prepare for fitting."

Candela sat next to the duffel and flashed a thumbs-up, signaling Blanche to press a button. Candela clenched her fists as the band adjusted to her head and tightened into place. Flicker reared and nickered apprehensively. Spark could nearly feel the constriction of the band himself. He tried to keep his face as flat and calm as possible, so as not to alarm Candela. Not that she seemed too concerned, even with the circlet burrowing into her scalp.

"I suspect Dillinger used the 'static' function on us before. We'll try the 'search' function instead, which I assume will allow you to psychically seek out pokémon with an implant," Blanche said. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Candela said. There was a hint of unease in her voice, subtle, hidden beneath her adventurous grin.

Blanche tapped the SEARCH button, and Candela sucked in a sharp breath.

"Candy!" Spark exclaimed.

"D-don't call me that," Candela said tensely, her eyes squeezed shut.

"I guess that means she's OK," Spark murmured to Blanche in a weak attempt at humor.

"What's going on, Candela?" Blanche asked, their finger hovering over the screen.

When Candela opened her eyes, only the whites showed. "I feel… strange. I can see some shapes, but I can't make sense of them. I'm not gonna lie, this isn't comfortable."

"Do we need to quit?" Spark asked.

"No, I'm OK," Candela said, and paused to take a few steadying breaths. "I think I'm getting close to something. It's… it's reaching toward me. It's… AH!"

Candela clasped her head, fingers twining in her dark hair, teeth bared and pressed together tightly. Spark rushed to her, his hands waiting above the circlet in case he needed to remove it quickly. He tried to interpret Blanche's expression, but their face was a mask of clinical focus.

Candela's eyes rolled forward again, but something was different. Her pupils had dilated to a disturbing, unnatural size, nearly eclipsing her golden irises. She stared sightlessly past her friends, breathing heavily. Flicker backed a few steps away and shook his mane, unsettled by seeing his trainer in such a state.

Spark squeezed her shoulder. "Candela? Should we stop?"

"Don't stop," Candela whispered. "I found him. I found Hypno. But... what the hell?"

Blanche leaned forward. "What is it? What do you see?"

Candela shuddered. "We're not alone."

§

 **AN:** Since this is a "grittier" and marginally more realistic pokémon universe than the games or anime typically depict, I've had trouble deciding how to describe pokémon cries. Rather than having them repeat their names, I'm going off of their "real world" animal counterparts and the digitalized roars from the original games. All this is to explain why Flicker has a very horse-y vocabulary. I could have attempted a horsea pun there, but I was strong.


	19. Chapter 19

"What do you mean, 'we're not alone'?"

Blanche's voice sounded muted and distant, as if Candela were hearing them from underwater. Her head throbbed and she could feel her pulse pounding in her temples. It wasn't quite the debilitating pain that Dr. Dillinger had used on her before, but it came close.

"I'm in Hypno's head, and I see other people down here," Candela said, fighting through the migraine sensation. "This is… really, really strange."

"Strange" didn't come close to describing what it was to be inside the head of another being. To Candela, she was no longer in the cavern with the stream. She was standing near a rushing river, hiding behind a stalagmite. She could see Hypno's arm as if it were her own, but she couldn't control it. Or, she didn't think she could. She wasn't going to try. She could feel the cold wetness of the stalagmite beneath Hypno's yellow hand, and for some reason, it made her queasy.

"Where are the other people? Are they Rockets?" Spark asked in that muffled way.

"They're not close, and they're definitely not Rockets," Candela said.

The people Hypno was watching from his hiding place looked like living ghosts. A group of about 10 of them gathered water from the river in buckets while another three or four kept watch. Their skin was pale to the point of translucency, and even from a hundred feet or so away, Candela could make out green and purple and blue veins streaking their arms and legs. They wore woven tunics, dark and coarse, blending in with the rocks around them. The people guarding the water-carriers held long, hook-ended swords, the kind that might disembowel an enemy in a single swing.

"Can you elaborate?" Blanche asked.

Candela described the scene before her. She didn't like speaking when it felt like she was so close to these strange people, but they didn't seem to hear her. Unless she was somehow making Hypno make noise, how could they? Still, it was a disquieting sensation.

The people on the riverbank finished their task and the group departed through a large tunnel leading away from the river, lighting their way with fiery torches and small lanterns that appearing to contain chunks of glowing crystal and mirrors. As soon as the glow from their lights disappeared, Hypno made his move. He turned away from the bank and headed upriver.

"OK, the people left, and Hypno's turning around," Candela reported. "We're in an area kind of like the one we're in now, but with much more water. Like, rapids. And I think I see… yes, there's a waterfall ahead. Hypno's climbing up a slope to the top of the falls. They're maybe 40, 50 feet tall, super loud."

She waited, marveling at how Hypno's limbs felt like hers, and yet she was only along for the ride. She found herself thinking encouraging thoughts and trying to transmit them to him. _Watch your step! Good, we're getting close!_ Her heart felt warm as she sensed gratitude from Hypno. It was like she could feel his thoughts, not hear them. They weren't in any language she knew. They were feelings, fleeting emotions, like little flashes of warning when he stepped on a slick rock, or the giddy flutter of optimism when he looked up and saw how close he was to the top of the waterfall.

"OK, we're at the top," Candela said. "Looks like a bunch of tunnels and streams feed into the falls a little further up, but they're all too wide and fast to cross, and the ceiling is really low in most places. There are a few rocks jutting out of the water at the top of the falls, just large and close enough to use as a bridge."

Hypno stepped onto the first stone, and Candela sensed how slippery it was. But Hypno seemed confident, and as he began to jump from stone to stone, a tunnel on the other side of the falls came into view.

"I think he's showing us a path away from the people who were on the bank," Candela said. "Our stream must feed into this area, so if we- OW!"

The pain in her head spiked. Hypno's vision blurred and Candela lost feeling in her fingers and toes as her connection with him faded. His shock and fear still stung her heart, and she wondered if this process was as painful for him as it was for her.

Then he was gone, and Candela was alone. Somewhere, she heard her friends shouting, but their voices were garbled and unstable, and she couldn't pick up every word.

"…need to…! She's bleeding! …going on?"

"… trying… not working, Spark… pull it off!"

Candela went from total numbness to feeling a powerful, choking heat. As she struggled to breathe, she sensed the presence of another entity, much like she'd sensed Hypno before. But this wasn't like Hypno. This was huge, and consumed by wrath and terror, and rather than letting her into its head, it was invading hers. Candela felt herself screaming, that raw rush of air cutting her throat, but she couldn't hear herself above the roar of fire and the horrifying, yet familiar, screech of a massive pokémon.

A flash of light, and the sound and heat were gone.

All at once, Candela was back in the cavern with the little stream, gasping for air. She couldn't see much, but she recognized Blanche's white hair close to her, and she reflexively reached for them. Blanche pulled her close and held her heavy head up to look into her eyes.

"Candela? Can you see me?" Blanche asked. Their delivery was calm and regular, but higher pitched than usual.

"Yes, mostly," Candela said hoarsely, her throat aching from the screaming.

The fuzzy outline of Spark's head appeared next to Blanche's. "Are you OK?"

Candela blinked a few times, bringing her friends into focus. Both of their faces were creased with worry, and Flicker paced behind them, producing small, anxious snorts and sighs. Candela laughed, but it sounded more like a cough.

"The things I have to do for a little attention around here," she joked. "Yeah, I'm OK. Shaken up, that's all."

The salty tang of blood seeped from her lips to her tongue. Candela raised her hand to her face and touched the warm blood that ran from her nose. She observed the crimson droplet on the tip of her finger before wiping it off on her jacket.

"You were screaming," Blanche said, sneering a little at Candela's decision to smear blood on her clothing. "I couldn't get the circlet to deactivate, so we had to pry it off of you. What happened? Did you see something?"

"Not exactly," Candela said as she rubbed the side of her head, glad to find the circlet gone. "I was pulled away from Hypno as he was crossing the stepping stones, and the next thing I knew, it was like I was being attacked."

"Attacked by what?" Spark asked, and he offered her a square of medical gauze from the duffel's first aid kit.

Candela held the gauze to her nose to stop the bleeding. "I think… no, I know it was Moltres. It was furious. I could physically feel its anger. And it was, I don't know, trying to force itself into my head. It was terrifying."

"Could you tell where Moltres was?" Blanche asked.

Candela frowned. "No, I couldn't. It was just suddenly there. I don't understand what it was doing. This is going to sound crazy… it's not like I _know_ Moltres or anything, but from what I've experienced so far, it wasn't itself. Something was very, very wrong."

She hadn't realized she was shaking until Spark placed his hand firmly on her shoulder to stop her. He'd warned her. He'd predicted something bad would happen. An ugly little part of herself was pissed about that.

"Anyway, I'm fine," Candela insisted. "I don't know what happened with Moltres, but it's over now, and we should keep moving. I'm sure if we follow this stream, we can get to the waterfall. Hypno didn't have enough time to get too far ahead, and I want to get there before those strangers show up again, just in case."

"You don't think those people were…?" Spark started to ask.

Blanche stood and walked to pick up the Candela's circlet, which had apparently been tossed a few feet away after being removed. "It's highly unlikely that a society could survive so long in an environment as barren as this."

"Highly unlikely, but possible?" Spark said.

Blanche turned the circlet in their hands. "Yes. It's a fascinating possibility. If we weren't in our current position, I would be interested in investigating these strangers."

Candela's head pounded as she stood unsteadily. Flicker placed himself next to her, in case she needed something to lean on. "Of course you'd be interested," she said to Blanche.

"And you're not?" Blanche asked, lifting a single slim eyebrow.

"I…" There was no point arguing. "Yeah, OK, I'm interested, too. But you're right. Hypno seemed very apprehensive of them, so I guess we should steer clear."

Blanche handed the circlet and communicator to Spark, who tucked them into the duffel, which he then zipped.

"Hey… why do you think the circlet didn't deactivate?" Candela asked as she hefted the bag onto her shoulder. She was determined to prove that she was OK, though her head was still spinning a bit.

"It must be glitchy," Spark said. "It gave Blanche and me a shock when we took it off of you."

"It was odd, though. It wasn't really a shock," Blanche said, moving toward the stream.

Spark took the cue and climbed on Flicker's back, rubbing the ponyta behind the ear to show his appreciation for the help. "Pretty sure it was a shock. Thanks to Rutabaga, I know an electrical charge when I feel one," he said.

Blanche pressed their lips together, thinking. "Strange. For me, it was like the burn of accidentally touching dry ice."

Candela glanced between the other leaders. "You guys are seeing the obvious connection here, right?"

"The birds," Spark said, furrowing his brow. "Man, I'm getting _real_ sick of being this confused all the time."

"Aren't you used to-" Candela awkwardly stopped herself mid-taunt.

Spark sighed, and though it was meant to be a comical gesture, Candela wondered if there might have been some truth to it. "My ego can take a joke, Candela. Don't worry about it. And yes, I _am_ used to being confused, but it's not usually to this degree."

"I think we should be quiet," Blanche stated from ahead of them. "We don't want to draw additional attention to ourselves."

Candela and Spark exchanged amused looks, but followed Blanche in silence along the stream.

§

The stream gradually expanded as tiny rivulets joined it, and soon enough, the water had broadened enough that only a narrow path remained dry, right next to the wall of the tunnel. The ceiling had become claustrophobically low, and Candela had been forced to return Flicker to his pokéball. The leaders shuffled along the narrow strip of rock on foot, heads ducked to avoid bumping the ceiling, feeling their way forward through the partial darkness.

Candela heard the falls before she saw them. She was the last out of the tunnel and into the wide area of merging streams that she'd seen through Hypno's eyes before. Ahead, the top of the falls suggested an infinite drop into the unknown, but Candela reminded herself of the view from below. It was a considerable drop, but not as intimidating as it appeared from this angle.

"I guess these aren't so bad," Spark said, limping up to the stepping stones at the top of the falls. "It's like that creek we used to play in out in the woods. Except with a roaring waterfall and almost no light."

Water crashed and sprayed over the rocks, making them slick, but they were wide and flat and fairly close together. The ceiling was low enough that they could brace an arm against it for extra support as they crossed the 20-foot wide falls. Compared to everything else Candela had experienced in the cave, it would be a cakewalk.

Candela squinted down at the distant glow of crystals near the shore where the pale people had been. It remained vacant, as far as she could tell. Regardless, she didn't want to linger at the top of the falls in case they came back and noticed the conspicuous trio of strangers crossing the stepping stones. She took the first step and, finding it not as slippery as she'd feared, proceeded to the next stone. Spark followed her, keeping his hand to the ceiling to counter his injured ankle, and Blanche brought up the rear.

The progress was smooth until Candela reached the fifth stone. The pain in Candela's head came out of nowhere, like a railroad spike driven through her skull, blindingly intense. She staggered forward, her toes slipping over the edge of the stepping stone. Something caught the back of her jacket and pulled her back upright.

Then the rage hit. Instant, incendiary, unstoppable. It was a physical thing in her stomach, roiling and burning, spreading, taking control. What unfortunate creature had the audacity to touch her? She threw her elbow backwards, striking whatever had grabbed her. Candela's body followed the motion of her elbow until she was facing the offender.

He was a pitiful-looking thing, wide-eyed, weak. It would be a mercy to end his life. She drew back her fist to strike, but he lunged forward and caught it. He was yelling something, but she didn't care what he had to say. He was an obstacle to be destroyed. She twisted and struggled to escape his hold, and as she did so, she drew back her foot to find stable purchase.

But there was none to be found. Her foot fell into nothingness and the rest of her followed, pulling her attacker with her. No, not an attacker. _Spark._ The hatred vanished and a burst of adrenaline flooded through Candela as she plummeted into the dark water of the falls, her hands reflexively grasping Spark's wrists.

They hit the river below, and it felt like hitting concrete. The wind was knocked from Candela's lungs as the falling water forced her under the surface. Spark clung to her as they both tumbled through the cold darkness, buffeted by rocks, spun by the current.

As soon as they breached the surface, Candela sucked in a gulp of air and water. She choked and gagged and kicked frantically to keep from sinking as the river pulled her along. Spark rearranged his hold on her, hooking his arm around her waist so the other arm could be free to swim. But the current was too swift to fight, and Candela watched helplessly as they were washed away from the falls and from Blanche's panicked form at the top of them.

"Kick for the shore!" Spark shouted above the thunder of the rushing water.

Candela pulled herself together, despite the guilt and horror that threatened to paralyze her. She pumped her legs, thinking of the swim-training she and Spark had received from Blanche when they were younger. Remain calm, breathe, be purposeful with every kick and stroke. It had been much easier in the tranquil waters of a pool and while wearing a swimsuit rather than a drenched coat and boots.

The shore where the pale people had been whooshed by, out of reach. They were into the unknown now, kicking toward the cave wall, searching for shallows. All the while, the river flowed faster and tried to suck them into the depths. The light-giving crystals thinned and faded until all the world was blackness and the roar of the river and the cold, brutal torrent carrying them away. Candela didn't dare reach for her pokéballs. She couldn't risk losing her pokémon, or calling one out only to drown alongside her.

"You OK?" Spark asked, breathy and strained.

How could he ask that at a time like this? And after what she'd done? "Yes, fine, I'm fine! You?" Candela said, and more water rushed into her mouth for her to cough and spit out.

"Oh, things are going swimmingly," he replied.

Great. He had breath to waste on a pun. Sure. Was he trying to make her feel better for potentially killing them both?

Spark coughed but then went on. "Look ahead. Do you see that?"

A reddish gleam, bobbing, vanishing behind waves, reappearing closer than before. Candela had little time contemplate the light. She yelped as a rock struck her side and spun her around. Spark nearly lost his hold on her, and just has he'd secured it again, they collided with another half-exposed boulder. They bounced from rock to rock at the whim of the current until Candela's head connected with one of them, sending colorful flashes across her vision and completely disorienting her.

And then she felt herself slowing down, pulled by Spark's arm. Her feet brushed the bottom of the river, and she sensed she was being dragged into the shallows. Her vision still swam, but Candela could hear Spark's labored breathing. Her limbs wouldn't obey her. It was all she could do to keep her mouth above the waves.

Candela sensed something hard beneath her back. Ground, safety. Spark had hefted her most of the way ashore, and she felt his hot breath against her cheek as he lay next to her, shivering.

Alive. They were alive.

But they weren't alone.

Candela recognized the reddish light, now mere feet away. A torch, wielded by a tall, deathly pale man in dark robes. He walked toward them, slowly pulling the sword from his belt.

"Stay back!" Spark warned in a rough, waterlogged voice. Candela felt him reaching for a pokéball.

But he was too slow. The stranger brought the hilt of his sword down hard on Spark's head, rendering him limp, then turned to Candela. She had no chance to defend herself as the hilt cracked against her skull.


	20. Chapter 20

Something was wrong. Deeply, awfully, unthinkably wrong. Everything had been fine as they'd started across the stepping stones, but then two things happened that Blanche couldn't wrap their mind around. First, Candela had, without the slightest warning, turned on Spark with murderous intent in her eyes. Blanche had never seen such ferocity in a human's face before. It was as if Candela were a cornered and terrified pokémon, lashing out in hateful desperation. When Spark tried to stop her, she pulled him over the side of the falls, and then the second thing happened.

Blanche had gone somewhere. They were there on the waterfall, watching their friends drop toward the river below, and then they were somewhere else entirely. Instead of the dark cavern with the roaring waterfall, Blanche found themself in freezing water, bubbles slipping from their mouth and rising toward the glow of ice above them.

They'd been there before, years and years ago. After Candela boasted about the legendary bird that had visited her. She was a liar. She had to be. Though Blanche had never met Joule, they knew his name, knew that he'd gotten sick and had died. Candela, Blanche had reasoned, was reaching out for attention and comfort after her brother's passing. Blanche didn't fault Candela for that. She was still the tough kid on the block, the one with the most passion and drive. It was clear she was going places.

Which was why Blanche wanted to latch onto her, just like Spark, the twitchy boy they'd met at the Volt Academy entry exam, had done. Candela was an "in" to the community of kids in the new and scary town that Blanche's dad had dropped them into. It would be socially beneficial to align with her, even if her attitude was grating and her behavior was erratic and hazardous. Every time Blanche was obliged to tattle on Candela, they knew they were distancing themself even more, but something had to be done. Rules existed for a reason, and not even the queen of the playground was exempt.

This went on for weeks. Getting close, being invited to play, and then ruining things by running to parents or teachers when Candela pulled a foolish stunt or Spark bumbled his way into a dangerous situation. Eventually, Candela had enough.

"You're a traitor," she'd decreed one day when they were playing in the frozen woods.

Candela had nailed Spark in the eye with a snowball, and Spark had started to cry, and so Blanche decided it was time to bring in a grownup. Candela stopped them, stood in front of them, arms akimbo, eyes burning from beneath her wool hat.

"You're just a tattletale and a killjoy. We don't want you here," Candela continued.

"It's OK, Candela" Spark said, sniffling, drying his eyes with his mittens. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Blanche can stay, right?"

"No, she can't," Candela said. "She's just gonna keep telling on us. We can't have any fun with her around. She ruins everything."

"I'm not a… that's not…" But Blanche didn't know how to say it. That "she" wasn't exactly right. That it made their stomach hurt a little, and when they heard it, it was as if the speaker were talking about someone else. "I'm sorry. I won't tell on you again. Please, you're my only friends."

Candela sneered. "We aren't your friends. You'll never be our friend."

Blanche felt the heat of embarrassment in their windburned cheeks, and knowing what Candela thought of crybabies, they turned and ran into the woods before she could see their tears. They couldn't believe they'd thought they had friends. How pathetic. They could never have friends. They didn't understand the other kids. Weren't they smart enough? Weren't they playing the right way? Weren't they polite and sweet? What were they doing wrong? Because they had to be doing something wrong.

At their old school, the kids called them a robot and made silly mocking beeps at them when they walked by. The kids at their new school came up with the same tired jokes. But Candela and Spark didn't go to Volt Academy. They never talked in a computer voice at them. They didn't call them a freak or make fun of them for wearing both the boy's and the girl's uniform, depending on what was comfortable that day. Candela and Spark let them tag along, and that was enough. Their dad was so happy that they'd made friends. They wanted him to keep smiling.

But Blanche really had ruined everything this time. They still didn't have friends, and they were foolish for ever thinking they did. Robots didn't make friends.

A sound like a blast of January wind and a thousand singing bells brought them back to the real world. They'd never heard a pokémon cry like that. Was it even a pokémon?

Blanche heard the crack of the ice before they even realized they were over water. They stopped running and finally acknowledged the small frozen lake they'd blindly raced to the center of. They saw the crack in the ice, but it seemed to be holding firm. They were more concerned about the surreal cry they'd just heard. They didn't want to stay out in the open. They had to go back to the safety of the trees. Just as they turned back toward shore, the ice gave way, and Blanche plummeted into the biting cold water.

The shock of the cold disoriented them, and by the time they'd spun themself back toward the surface, they could no longer see the hole they'd created as they fell through. Just a glowing expanse of ice through a murky screen of lake water.

In their panic, Blanche released the air from their lungs and watched in horror as the bubble of their breath splattered against the ceiling of ice. They were going to die there, under the ice. They'd never see their dad again. This was the end.

Except it wasn't. A long shadow crawled across the ice above them, and then a fist plunged through the surface. Blanche reached for it with stiff, uncooperative fingers and took hold. They were surprised by the strength of their rescuer as they were pulled from the depths. The icy wind slapped them in the face, and they sucked in the most wonderful lungful of oxygen they'd ever breathed as their hero dragged them out of the water.

Candela guided them across the ice on their bellies, distributing their weight evenly as they crawled to shore. Spark was there to tuck his coat around Blanche's trembling body. He breathed warmth into their hair as he hugged them, arms holding them tightly like he might never let them go.

Though it was hard to hear over the chattering of Blanche's teeth, they heard Candela's voice close to their ear. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You're my friend, OK? You're our friend."

As the three huddled on the shore, a shadow passed over them. Only Blanche seemed to notice it, and they watched in silence as a great, blue bird landed on a half-fallen tree across the little lake. Articuno's tail undulated in the wind like an airborne river, soft and fluid and shining. It stared at Blanche with calm, intelligent eyes. Like it was saying something to them in another language, something they didn't understand yet. Blanche couldn't bring themself to speak. They bathed in the tranquility of the legendary bird, and they knew Candela had told the truth.

Blanche had nearly forgotten that moment. They'd told themself that they'd been seeing things. That being around Candela had been enough to play with their imagination and make them believe that they'd seen a legendary bird, too. Only now, as an adult in trapped in a prison of ice and water, trapped in _memory,_ could they remember the thoughts they'd thrown away. The memory of Spark talking about Zapdos at the power plant… how could they have forgotten that? But it had happened, and they could remember it now. He'd talked so casually about it, and then stopped talking about it altogether. So had Candela.

And so, Blanche forgot. All their stories had been so impossible, so incredible, that Blanche had thrown them out.

But they'd never quite been able to forget Articuno. They could dismiss the memory as personal fiction, but it still stuck to them. That cry echoed in their dreams.

Blanche couldn't afford to waste more time on recovered memories. They were stuck beneath the ice, against all rationality, and Candela wasn't there to save them this time. They could think of no rational explanation. A vivid hallucination? A psychotic break? Was this what death felt like? Memories and cold and fear?

Then, as quickly as they'd been transported, Blanche returned to the cavern, dry and safe and exactly where they'd been standing. They gasped for air and filled their thirsting lungs. Alive and warm and unharmed… but alone. With their heart in their throat, Blanche scanned the dark, raging waters that stretched away from the falls toward a black corridor. Nothing. No flailing limbs among the rapids, no shouts of terror.

Silence and emptiness.

"No…" The word fell from Blanche's mouth and was swallowed in the noise of the river. This couldn't be happening. Candela and Spark couldn't be gone. Their eyes fell upon a soft—edged shape against a rock at the bottom of the falls. _No. No-no-no-no-no-no-no…_

Blanche sprang back across the stepping stones and scrambled down the jagged slope to the side of the waterfall, tripping every so often in their frantic effort to get to the shape. They called Venomoth from his pokéball and pointed, breathless, at the thing in the water.

Venomoth zipped over the rapids and hovered above the rock that the shape had been trapped against. The bug pokémon cautiously lowered himself to inspect the thing, batting his wings to dispel the spray. His mandibles twitched as he got close enough to wrap his legs around the object and lift it from the water, and Blanche nearly collapsed from relief.

It was the duffel Candela had been carrying, not the body that Blanche had expected to find. Blanche accepted the bag from Venomoth and unzipped it. The tough material had done a decent job of protecting its contents from the water, but some of the items were still soggy, and Dr. Dillinger's communicator wouldn't turn on.

Venomoth's wing brushed Blanche's cheek.

"Thank you," they said. They knew he was waiting for new instructions, or to be returned to his ball. But Blanche wasn't ready to be alone again. "Is it all right if I keep you out for a while?"

Venomoth fluttered in a circle and settled on a nearby rock, where he began to preen. Blanche wished they could be so composed. For all they knew, Spark and Candela were…

No. No thinking like that. They weren't necessarily dead. The situation was bleak, but they'd all survived so much already. Blanche's friends were tough and clever in their own unique ways. All Blanche had to do was find them.

But how? The water was too rough for even someone of Blanche's aquatic caliber to safely navigate on their own. They'd need to rely on pokémon, but they could see that Gyarados wouldn't fit down the tunnel, which appeared to narrow and darken as it flowed. Venomoth certainly couldn't carry a person like a pidgeot with the move Fly could, but he probably could fly through the tunnel solo and report back. A venomoth's ability to see in the dark would be useful for the task. He could trek downriver and report back.

"Venomoth, I have an assignment for you."

Venomoth tilted his head and rubbed his legs together, but Blanche couldn't tell if it was out of eagerness or cleanliness. He'd always been so prim and tidy, even as a fluffy little venonat.

Blanche pointed down the tunnel. "I need you to follow the river and search for Candela and Spark. When you find them, return to me and lead me to them. There may be a safe path I can't see from here. Do you understand?"

Venomoth dipped his head and rapidly blinked his large compound eyes.

"Good. Please be quick. I'm afraid we don't have much time."

Venomoth flapped his lacy wings and made for the tunnel. A pang of guilt compelled Blanche to extend their hand and call out to him again. "Venomoth!"

He circled back, head twitching side-to-side inquisitively.

"Be careful. Stay safe," Blanche said.

Venomoth flapped forward and gently touched his forehead to Blanche's, a simple gesture of assurance. Then, he bobbed off down the tunnel and faded into the darkness, leaving Blanche alone to wait. They hid themself behind a stone ridge, in case the pale strangers returned. There was nothing to do now but watch for Venomoth and wonder. What had happened to Candela to cause her to behave like she had? Were she and Spark still alive? What had happened to Blanche at the top of the falls? Were they going mad? The thoughts threatened to drown them.

 _Keep it together. Maintain composure._ All was not lost. Blanche couldn't panic now. With unsteady hands, they rummaged in the bag for food that hadn't been spoiled by the river. They'd eat and rest and keep up their strength. It was all they could do.


	21. Chapter 21

The bed was warm and soft and smelled of the forest floor after the rain, that sweet, gritty tang of petrichor. Spark felt like he could lie here forever. His body felt so heavy, and it sank so perfectly into the bed, and he wondered whether he actually _had_ been lying here forever. Wherever "here" was. His apartment? No, this wasn't his bed.

Spark's memories groggily stepped in line. Mount Akanoir. The caves, crystals, the door, the legendary birds… the waterfall. Candela's rage. The pale man and his sword. Adrenaline sparked through his body, bursting from his chest and ending in an electric buzz in his fingers and toes. He opened his eyes and sat straight up, ready to fight or flee.

The bed was on the floor of a small, domed room, sparsely decorated with stone furniture, wall-suspended lanterns, and metal racks that displayed various artfully-crafted sabers and daggers and axes and spears. Struck as he was by the array of weapons, Spark didn't notice the woman in the room until she stood from the cushion she'd been seated on and started toward him.

He held out his hand, warning her off. "Don't come any closer!"

The woman's brows lifted and she slowly raised her hands, as if placating an aggressive but harmless wild pokémon. She was short, perhaps five feet tall, but exuded a sort of natural, unquestionable authority that made her seem to tower over Spark. Her hair was clipped close to her head and was as wispy and sand-hued as a fledging pidgey's feathers. Her skin resembled a roadmap: impossibly white, with a network of green and blue veins tracing paths up her neck and near her hairline and down her delicate forearms. Her eyes were such a mirror-like blue that Spark wondered how well she could see.

"Where is Candela?" Spark asked as he scrambled to his feet. The world danced and tilted, and he nearly collapsed back down. It felt like a cubone was continually whacking the back of his head. He was pretty sure he was one headwound away from permanent brain damage at this rate.

The woman started forward again, and Spark stumbled backwards to avoid her. Her demeanor wasn't menacing, but Spark couldn't take the risk of lowering his guard. "I said to stay back! Where is my friend? What did you do to her?"

When the woman continued toward him, he reached for the pokéballs at his belt. Except they weren't there. In fact, not even his belt was there. He was clothed in a dark, soft material, loose-fitting, robe-like.

"What… Where are my pokémon?" Spark asked. He backed into the wall and winced. The rapids had not been kind to the fresh scar across his back. Not that they'd been kind to the rest of his body, either. Now that he was standing and moving, every part of him seemed to have a complaint. His head, his ribs, his ankle, his knees… Fending off an armed attacker in this condition would be a challenge.

The woman spoke, but not in a language Spark could identify. It sounded like tumbling stones and dripping water. It was as if the cave itself were speaking. The only word he could pick out was "Candela," though she spoke it with an unfamiliar accent.

"Is he awake? Spark?"

The voice came from an arched entrance to the room. Spark's blood turned cold. No. It couldn't be her.

Dr. Dillinger strolled into the room with her sweet, concerned smile. Spark knew he had to make a move before she could. He darted for the rack of weapons, narrowly avoiding the pale stranger's reach, ignoring the shocks of pain coming from his right ankle. He wrenched a curved sword from its place and leveled it at Dillinger, even though he knew damn well he couldn't bring himself to use the thing, not even on her.

"Whoa, Spark! What the hell? It's me!" said Dr. Dillinger, looking truly aghast.

"Takes a lot of nerve to act chummy while I'm pointing a weapon at you," Spark said.

Dillinger took a step back, as if she'd been physically struck. "Is this about what happened before? I don't know what that was, Spark. That wasn't me!"

"It sure seemed like you, Doc," Spark growled, advancing slowly on her. He'd have to threaten her to get information out of her. That was the hard truth of it, if he wanted to find Candela, if he wasn't too late.

"Doc…?" Dr. Dillinger narrowed her beady eyes at him. "It's _me._ It's _Candela._ "

 _What?_ Spark shook the sword at her. "I'm done with the mind games. They're just getting weird at this point. Now, tell me where Candela is, or today's special will be Rocket-kebab."

Spark nearly missed Dillinger's subtle glance to the side. She was looking at something... no, _someone._ Spark dodged to the side as the pale woman lunged for him from behind. He dropped the sword, determined not to cut her. He pivoted and pushed her in the direction of her momentum, causing her to trip and sprawl across the floor. Then he launched toward the entrance.

But despite her unathletic appearance, Dr. Dillinger was too quick for him. She clotheslined him across his stomach with an arm that he would never have guessed to be so muscular. In the same motion, she threw his winded body into a stone chair and straddled him, pinning his shoulders against the back of the chair with hot, firm hands. Spark arched his back to try to force her off, despite the hurt it caused.

"What the fuck is going on with you?!" Dillinger demanded, her black-and-silver hair falling across her face, lifting with each puff of her breath. He recognized the ferocity in her eyes, but it was out of place. It was like looking into the mirror and finding someone else's reflection there. "You don't really think I'm Dr. Dillinger, do you? How hard did you hit your head? Do I look _anything_ like that monster?"

Spark gasped, the air finally returning to his lungs. What was she talking about? Her games were getting weirder and weirder. And yet, something wasn't right. A flicker of doubt formed in Spark's mind.

"Yes, you're _exactly_ like her," Spark said, carefully monitoring Dillinger's expression, looking for the detail that would confirm her identity.

Her face fell, and it was as if Spark had impaled her after all. She was devastated.

And she was no longer Dr. Dillinger. The image of the doctor vanished, like a design in the sand blown away by the wind. Beneath that image was Candela, looking horrified and confused.

"Candela… Candela, I'm so sorry, I couldn't see you! You weren't – I don't know – it wasn't – you looked like-" Spark lost his breath, the panic taking hold, his chest tightening.

Candela stood, but kept her hands on his shoulders. "Hey, hold on, just breathe for a minute…"

Spark concentrated on keeping his breaths regular. What the hell had just happened? It had been Dillinger, down to the ratty lab coat and cutesy, punch-able face. He'd even heard her sugar-sweet voice! He would have staked his life on her being the real deal.

"Is this… is this what happened to you? Back at the falls?" Spark panted, gradually regaining control. "Did you look at me and see someone else?"

Candela's shoulders scrunched up, like she was trying to make herself smaller, like a guilty child. Her eyes flicked to the side, searching for something. Making a decision. "I… yes. I thought you were one of the Rockets. I panicked."

A tingle passed over Spark's skin. He didn't want to believe it, but he couldn't ignore the feeling that Candela was lying to him. But why? She'd obviously seen _something_ to make her flip out like that. She'd become something else back there, something terrifying. There had to be a reason.

He didn't have the chance to call her out on the lie. The pale woman's face appeared above Candela's shoulder, entirely unamused. She tapped Candela's back to draw her attention.

Candela jumped in surprise and turned to face the woman. "Waik! This is Spark. He's a friend, believe it or not."

The woman tapped the corner of her mouth and said something in that water-drip language.

Candela palmed her forehead. "Right, language barrier…" She pointed at Spark, repeating his name as she did.

"Spark," said the woman, and she bowed her head in greeting. She rested her fingertips on her collarbone. "Waik."

"Hi, Waik," said Spark, nervously smiling at the woman he'd thrown to the ground minutes before. "I'm, uh, sorry about before…"

" _Ku_ , Spark," said Waik, coolly. She pointed at Spark and, looking at Candela, mimed lifting and tilting a cup. Then, she left the room, and Spark let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Candela… what in the actual-"

Candela interrupted him. "Yeah, I know. I'll try to fill you in as much as possible, but I'm pretty lost myself. As far as I can tell, though, we're safe."

Spark held his head in his hands, not sure where to start. "How long was I out? Who was that? And what are we wearing?"

Candela leaned against the wall and thumbed the shoulder strap of her strange, woven robe. "This seems to be the height of cave-dweller fashion. Guess there's not much available to make clothes out of. I think this might be dried and knitted moss? Anyway, you were down for about an hour, I think. I came to while we were being carried into the village."

"Village?"

"You'll see," said Candela, as if that were a satisfactory answer. "Waik is apparently their leader. Don't worry. I also tried to attack her."

"Of course you did," Spark sighed. "What happened? You woke up, and then…?"

Candela crossed her arms smugly. "I fought free of the men carrying me, which stirred up a little chaos. Waik confronted me, carrying this giant sword. Bigger than she is, I swear. I was about to bring out Brutus for a show of force when Waik laid down her weapon. To be honest, I wasn't ready for another fight, so I went with the truce. She had some of her people take you to her home, and she gave us dry clothes. One of the villagers gave me some weird soup to eat, and I basically camped outside your room to keep watch. You'd have thought I was out there to be gawked at, though. A few dozen people made sure to come by and stare at me while I waited for you."

Spark massaged his temples. "This is too much… I'm finally hitting my what-the-hell threshold…"

"I know it's a lot to take in," Candela said. "I've given up even questioning this shit. I'm not the most trusting person, but I figure if these people had wanted to do us harm, they'd have done it already."

"I guess, but…" Spark closed his mouth as Waik entered the room, carrying a stone mug.

Waik said something in her language and pointed at Spark again. Then, she took a small sip of the liquid and grimaced. Demonstrating it was safe, Spark supposed, though it didn't seem enticing as a beverage. Waik pointed at Spark's head, and then his swollen ankle.

Spark slowly took the mug as it was offered to him, gauging her trustworthiness. Even when he'd been startled by her presence before, he hadn't sensed animosity from her. Still, she was a stranger handing him a cup of foul-smelling mystery fluid. His emotional inclination was to trust her, but logic gave him pause.

Waik turned to Candela and moved her open hands up and down in front of her torso to emphasize slow, calm breathing. She tapped her head and nodded to Candela. She hesitantly nodded back. Satisfied with the response, Waik crossed the room and set to polishing a small dagger, glancing up at her houseguests every so often. Spark didn't think it was a threatening gesture, but it was obvious that Waik intended to monitor her visitors. He wondered how long it had been since she'd _had_ visitors. She was certainly handling the situation in stride, but he could tell by the nervous twitching of her nostrils and her stiff, tight-muscled posture that she wasn't as relaxed as she was trying to appear.

Waik caught him staring, and with a slightly furrowed brow, mimicked lifting a cup again.

"I think you're gonna have to drink that stuff," Candela said, frowning at Spark sympathetically.

Spark sniffed the drink and gagged. "Yeuch, it smells like pond scum and despair…"

"Don't be a baby," Candela chided. "You're being super rude to the lady who could have killed us a dozen times by now."

"How come you got soup and I got a cup of koffing farts?"

Candela rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure it's medicine of some kind. And why are you complaining? I saw you eat dirt once."

"When I was eight!" Spark retorted. "I wanted to know what being a diglett was like…"

Waik cleared her throat and glowered at them.

"It's like if you and Blanche had a baby, and that baby was the leader of a lost subterranean society," Spark whispered to Candela.

"Drink the pond scum, Spark," Candela said.

So he did. It tasted like he imagined the trash-juice at the bottom of restaurant dumpsters would. He tried to swallow it down without tasting it, without letting it linger on his tongue, but wasn't very successful. He coughed and sputtered on the last drop, and Candela giggled. He counted the bumps and scrapes on her arms and legs – courtesy of the rapids, surely – and wondered why she hadn't been given this "medicine." She was playing tough, but moved a little awkwardly, favoring her sore limbs. Something wasn't quite right. Well, most things weren't quite right, at this point. Spark could hardly keep up with all the absurdity.

Shouts rose from outside the domed dwelling, frightened cries in a foreign language. Spark jumped from his seat and Candela clenched her fists defensively. She reached into a fold of her robe and pulled out a handful of pokéballs. She handed Spark's to him.

Waik's attention wavered between the pokéballs and the doorway. She slipped the dagger into her clothes and walked to the doorway, holding one hand out to Spark and Candela, warning them to stay put. Something about the way she eyed the pokéballs made Spark itchy. There was distrust and profound curiosity in that look.

A tall man, possibly the one who'd knocked them out, appeared at the doorway, speaking in a quick, low voice to Waik. Her eyes widened, but she otherwise kept her face neutral. She turned to her guests as though to speak to them, but seemed to realize her words would mean nothing to them. She followed the man out of the room, and Candela and Spark tailed her.

Spark nearly tripped over himself as he stepped outside. Dozens of domed buildings filled an enormous cavern, stacked on top of each other, like bubbles, or bunches of grapes. They were carved out of the very walls themselves, and were lit by beautiful, curving streetlamps. From the door of Waik's home, he could see at least 4 roads stretching away into more clumps of houses. On those roads, dozens of white-skinned people bustled, pointing toward homes or racks of weapons, their faces serious but fearful.

Waik and her guide hurried up one of the roads, toward a circle of armed men and women. Above the circle, a venomoth hovered, clicking his mandibles threateningly and staying well beyond weapon-range. Spark recognized his gleaming, meticulously-groomed wings.

It didn't take Candela long to see the resemblance as well. "Blanche…"

She rushed forward, pushing through the crowd. Spark pursued her, offering pointless apologies to those she'd knocked into.

In the center of the circle, Blanche stood resolutely, despite the myriad of weapons bristling around them. Candela and Spark spilled into the ring, causing a ripple of shocked whispers through the crowd of warriors. They planted themselves in front of Blanche, palms out in a display of peace toward the wary onlookers.

Spark grinned over his shoulder at Blanche, savoring their surprised expression. "Hey there, Rescue Committee! Glad you could join us. Now, despite how it looks, we're among friends. I think."

Blanche angled their head to the side and narrowed their eyes as if to say, _Are you sure about that?_

"We're serious," Candela said. She then addressed Waik, who stepped forward to the front of the ring, her grip tight around her enormous broadsword. "Waik! This is another friend. Blanche."

Waik pointed forcefully at Venomoth, and Blanche took the hint and returned him to his ball. The crowd gasped as he vanished in a beam of red light. Their weapons clanked and brushed as they chattered among themselves in awestruck tones.

"I guess they've never seen a pokéball in action, huh?" Candela murmured.

Spark nodded, but sensed there was something more. The fear in the air was tangible. It wasn't just the pokéball putting them all on edge.

Blanche stepped up to join Candela and Spark. They dipped their head in polite greeting, though their eyes never broke away from Waik. Waik returned the greeting in the same vigilant manner.

Someone in the crowd gasped, and one of the warriors in the front row fell to his knees. For a second, Spark thought the man was wounded, but quickly realized that he was kneeling intentionally, like a knight before a king. Spark's stomach churned, whether it was due to the foul liquid or the ominous sensation that the mood in the ring had abruptly changed. One by one, the people took a knee, averting their eyes from the trio. Spark's heart thumped in his throat and he felt woozy.

All 50-odd men and women around them waited on their knees, bowed in a way befitting only royalty. All but Waik. Her chest heaved, her eyes were wide and fierce. The tall man next to her tugged on her robe, silently encouraging her to kneel with him. She shook her head and said something to him. He replied to her in a pleading, confused voice, but she would not be moved.

"We need to go," Blanche whispered.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, but how exactly are we supposed to pull that off? Another mounted retreat? We're surrounded by a sea of weapons," Candela said.

"I can pick out some of their words. We might not have a choice," Blanche said, a muscle in their jaw convulsing beneath their skin.

Candela curled her lip. "How the hell can you understand what they're saying?"

"Blanche was an ancient civilization buff as a kid, remember?" Spark answered on their behalf.

"The dialect is strange, but there's one word I definitely recognize," Blanche continued.

"And that would be…?" Candela asked.

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of Blanche's face. "Execution."


	22. Chapter 22

"What's our move?"

Blanche barely registered Candela's question. There was so much to observe, so much that was out of place. To start with, there was the fact that Candela was no longer in a state of murderous rage. Which was a good thing, Blanche supposed, but they had so many questions. And then there was Spark, whose limp had all but vanished. The adrenaline, perhaps? No, something else wasn't right about him, either. His eyelids fluttered, and Blanche even caught his head droop and jerk back up, as if he were falling asleep. Blanche knew they were all exhausted, but nodding off at a moment like this, surrounded by weapon-wielding strangers and a woman who had just decreed their execution?

"Blanche, snap out of it," Candela hissed, elbowing them in the side. "Think we can fight our way out?"

"I doubt it," Blanche said. "Even if we used all our pokémon, we're facing too many people with too many ways of taking us down. Maybe if I talk to Waik…"

"D'you know enough of the language to do that?" Spark slurred. He drew his head back, as if he were taken aback by the sloppiness of his words.

Blanche looked at Candela, expecting an explanation.

"Spark might be a little bit drugged. I'm suddenly realizing that the stuff Waik gave to him might have been less about healing and more about sedating him after he mistook me for Dr. Dillinger," Candela said, wincing.

Blanche blinked. "What?"

"Guys, we really don't have time to delberate. Uh, derlivate. Dlebernate." Spark growled in frustration, unable to get the word out. "We. Don't. Have. Time. For. This."

The small, regal woman that Candela had called "Waik" approached them with her head held high. Men flanked her on either side, though the majority of her people remained on their knees, stealing furtive glances at the goings-on. She stopped within arm's length of Blanche and extended her hand, palm-up.

"I don't understand," Blanche said, then remembered the difference in languages. They knew a scattering of ancient words, but certainly couldn't speak fluently. They knew the gory bits, about wars and crime. They'd been fascinated by the archaic systems of justice. Blanche racked their brain for something that might apply, but came up short.

"She's asking for your pokéballs," Spark said solemnly.

Blanche took a step back. "No… _raka._ "

Waik's eyebrow twitched. The word for "no" was the same, at least. Or perhaps she'd simply read Blanche's body language. Waik curled and uncurled her fingers a few times, and the message was clear. _You're going to hand them over, and you're going to do it now._

Spark reached in front of Blanche and placed his pokéballs in Waik's palm. Blanche watched, thunderstruck, as he nodded to her, and she nodded back. Then, she passed the balls to one of her men, cupping them delicately.

"Spark, what the hell?" Candela asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"She's not gonna to kill us, an' she's not gonna hurt our pokémon. Give 'er a chance to think," Spark said.

"You're high, Spark. You're not thinking clearly," Candela said.

Spark shrugged. "I won't lie to you. I'm feelin' weirdly chill right now."

"Because you're _high,_ " Candela interjected.

Spark held up his finger. "Yes, _but,_ 'member how I said Waik is kinda like if you and Blanche had a baby?"

Blanche got the feeling they'd missed a _lot_ while they were following Venomoth to the village. "What do you mean?"

Waik, despite not speaking the same language, seemed to wait for Spark's answer with the same tentative curiosity. She extended her hand to Blanche again.

"What I mean is, Waik is a rattinal – urgh – _rational_ person, yeah? She's been calm and logical and Blanchey this whole time," Spark said, his brows drawn in concentration. "But she's also emotional. She's terrified right now. She's trying to fight her emotions with her logic, so let's not give 'er anything else to fear. Let logic win. Let 'er know we're not a threat."

"She doesn't look terrified to me," Candela said.

Blanche agreed with Candela, though said nothing. Waik reminded Blanche of a storm system on the horizon, a distant cloud of untold energy and power. Perhaps the storm would bring only cool winds and rain for the flowers, or perhaps it would bring a deluge of destruction. There was no way to predict Waik's path. She didn't look frightened. She looked angry, and like she was losing patience.

"You can keep arguin' with me, or you can trust me and avoid bein' escuted," Spark said with an uncharacteristic air of exasperation.

"Executed," Blanche corrected for him.

"Exactly," said Spark.

Blanche considered Spark's reasoning. Apart from the slurring and far too laidback demeanor, he seemed of sound mind, and he'd made a good point. Perhaps it was time to start trusting him again. Blanche steeled their heart and placed their pokéballs into Waik's hands. Again, Waik gently transferred them to one of her attendants.

"You can't be serious," said Candela. "I can't just hand over my pokémon."

"We'll get 'em back," Spark assured her. "Please, Candela."

"We don't have a choice," Blanche said.

Blanche detected the hint of moisture in Candela's eye as she slowly, painfully, gave her pokéballs to Waik. Waik bowed again, and this time, she broke eye contact. Blanche hoped that was intended as a symbol of trust. Next, she pointed at the duffel behind Blanche's legs. Blanche stepped aside and allowed one of Waik's posse to take the bag.

Waik gave a few instructions to her followers, and several of them moved behind Blanche, Candela, and Spark. Waik waved her hand, inviting them to follow her. With armed men and women at their elbows, they complied in apprehensive silence.

§

The room Waik deposited them into was dark and cylindrical and contained only one window, tightly barred and high enough up the wall that someone would have to stand on another's shoulders to see out of it. Blanche's fingers trailed down the claw-marks in the walls, noting how much harder this rock seemed to be than the stone than comprised the other dwellings they'd passed on their way to their holding cell. Had the marks been left by pokémon? Surely, no human could score the walls like this.

"Are you happy, Spark? Now that you've landed us on death row?" Candela spat. She paced the room, bare feet pattering against the cold floor. It was strange for Blanche to see her and Spark in these simple robes instead of their usual, colorful ensembles.

Spark slumped against the wall, his face slack, totally at peace. He looked like he could be meditating. "She's talking it over with her people. We're not gonna die."

"And how do you know that?" Candela asked.

With closed eyes and a soft smile, Spark replied in a singsong voice. "Because we're the kings from the door."

Candela stopped pacing and planted her hands on her hips. "Blanche, do you know what he's talking about, or is his brain turning to soup?"

At least Spark wasn't in the frame of mind to be insulted by Candela's blasé condescension. Blanche tried not to be bothered, either. "He's talking about the carvings we found on the door of the great hall. They appeared to document a story of war between ancient cultures. Three figures who happened to share a passing resemblance with the three of us brought the fighting to an end with the aid of the legendary birds. In one of the images, they were crowned royalty. But something went wrong, causing the people who had united under their rule to seal themselves away here. That's my interpretation, anyway."

Candela nodded along with the information, her face tight with either frustration or contemplation, Blanche couldn't tell. "I guess I remember Dillinger saying something about crowns and carvings when she put those things on our heads. Why didn't you mention this?"

"It seemed less important than other happenings," Blanche said.

"Really? Because it sounds kind of significant to me. Like, ancient-prophecy-level significant," Candela said, but her words weren't as anger-edged as before. "Like, a tribe of cave-people bowing before us significant."

Blanche pressed their lips together, biting back a sharp retort. "You're right. I should have mentioned it previously."

Candela's muscles relaxed and she sat, cross-legged, in the middle of the room. " _Thank_ you."

Blanche tilted their head. "For what?"

"For not arguing about it," Candela said. "And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for losing my temper with both of you. Spark, I guess I should keep my word. I said I'd have your back, so fine, I have your back. I just hope you're right."

"I'm definitely right," said Spark. Blanche hadn't even known he was still awake. "Man, I wish I felt like this all the time. It's like nothin' matters. I don't care. I can't even feel anything. This is greeeaaat."

Candela bared her teeth in a nervous grimace. "Still trying to trust you, buddy. Guess that was some potent shit Waik gave you."

"About that… What exactly happened while we were separated? Starting with the incident at the waterfall, if you would," Blanche said. As nice as it was to see Spark so relaxed and casually confident, his words were somehow unsettling. It was like it wasn't really him speaking, and they didn't like it.

Candela leaned back, holding herself up with her arms and staring at the distant ceiling. "Right, that. You're going to think I deserve a straightjacket."

"Try me," said Blanche.

"While I was crossing the stepping stones, I got this overpowering sense that Team Rocket was right behind me. I wigged out. When I turned around, I saw a Rocket grunt trying to throw me off the falls. So I attacked him, but then the grunt turned out to be Spark. I lost my footing, and that was that."

"She's lying, Blanche," Spark mumbled.

Candela sat straight up, like she'd received a jolt of electricity. "What?"

"She's a lying liarson," Spark said, louder, but still with closed eyes.

"And you're tripping on cave-juice," Candela accused.

Blanche pinched the bridge of their nose, trying to alleviate a budding headache. So much for the peaceful discussion. "What do you mean, Spark?"

"I dunno," said Spark, unhelpfully. "But she's lying. Someone's gotta say it. She sold me the same story earlier, but it wasn't true, and I didn't say anything, but now I'm sayin' something."

Since Spark didn't have anything concrete to offer, Blanche pressed ahead. "Never mind, then. Something obviously happened to you on the falls, and you were washed downstream."

"Right," said Candela, relaxing again. She relayed to Blanche their story of surviving the rapids, of Spark pulling her to shore only for them to be captured by the pale people. She described how Spark mistook her for Dr. Dillinger, and how Waik pressured him to drink the mysterious liquid. "I think she was even trying to tell me that it was intended as a sedative, in case he started waving a sword around again."

"So, you both had these vivid hallucinations," Blanche recapped, mostly to themself. "Unfortunately, I must admit that I experienced something similar. When you fell, it was as though I was transported somewhere else. Do you remember when I fell through the ice out in the woods?"

Candela leaned forward and frowned at the memory. "Of course. I felt horrible about that for years."

"One moment, I was watching you disappear into the water. The next, I was under the ice, just like when I was a child. It felt so real. It was freezing cold, and I could feel myself sinking. I couldn't even breathe," Blanche said.

"That's… that's _terrifying,_ Blanche," said Candela. "What happened? How did you get out of it?"

"I'm not sure. As quickly as it happened, I was back, and the two of you were gone." Blanche paused, surprised that the recollection had shaken them up a little, judging by the tremor in their voice. "I sent Venomoth after you, and he found a dry path for me to follow to reach you. One of the villagers caught me on the outskirts of the community, and in no time, I was surrounded. I was just so distracted by the architecture…"

Candela chuckled. "I'm glad we didn't actually need rescued. At least, not at that point."

Blanche smiled sadly. "I suppose. I'm quite concerned about these visions we've all experienced. I'd chalk it up to exhaustion and mental strain, but am baffled by the intensity of my hallucination. Selfishly, I'm unsettled by how drastically different my experience was from yours. You and Spark both saw members of Team Rocket in the place of each other. Why am I the odd one out?"

"I… uh…" Candela made the scrunched-up face of a person about to say something they'd regret. "You're not. Spark and I didn't actually have the same vision."

"What? Is that what Spark meant when he said you were lying? Why lie to me, only to admit the truth mere minutes later?" Blanche asked.

Candela inclined her head toward Spark, who had finally passed out against the wall, mouth agape, snoring softly.

"You didn't want to say it in front of him," Blanche surmised. "What did you actually see, Candela?"

Candela smiled, but it was spiteful, sour. "That's the thing. I didn't see anything. Not anything that wasn't there, anyway. When I attacked Spark, I could see that it was him."

Blanche's heart picked up its pace. "What are you saying?"

"I knew full well it was Spark, and I wanted to kill him."

Blanche struggled to comprehend Candela's words. She couldn't have meant that. She had to be joking. "Well, everyone has wanted to kill Spark at one point or another. Is that what you mean?"

"I'm serious, Blanche," Candela said, a pained expression twisting her features. "I was overcome with this incredible rage. It was like a physical thing, you know? Like I was possessed by it. I saw him, and was going to murder him. There was no other option. Even though I could see Spark, I don't think I even acknowledged it was him. Not until I missed my step. Suddenly, I realized what I was doing, but it was too late, and we were falling."

Blanche's throat felt dry.

"Blanche, please say something," Candela begged. "I've been trying to keep cool about it, but I'm scared out of my fucking mind. I don't know what came over me, and I'm afraid of telling Spark that I was literally trying to murder him. He's barely keeping it together as it is. If you could have seen his face when he thought I was Dillinger…" Her breath hitched. "What if it happens again? What if I go after _you_ next time?"

"I don't know," Blanche said, choking on the words. They didn't have the means of processing all this information. The "what ifs" alone were petrifying. Candela's transformation had happened so instantaneously before. How could they prepare for something they couldn't predict?

Candela carried on, almost like she hadn't heard Blanche. "And the worst part of it is that even when Spark was threatening me with an actual weapon, I knew he'd never use it. Not even on the real Dillinger. As much as I hate that woman, I'm not sure I could, either. But back there, when I swung at Spark, I meant it. I would have killed him, and I… I just… I'm sorry."

She shook from the effort of holding in her tears. She must have been forcing herself to maintain her composure before, but now the floodgates had opened. Blanche didn't know how to comfort her, so they waited quietly for her to regain herself.

"I'm sorry. I know my emotions are all over the place right now, and emotions aren't exactly your forte. I've just been trying not to think about what happened, but I know I can't do that forever. I feel lost," said Candela, her voice hollow.

"You should tell Spark the truth," Blanche said. It was all they could think to say. Keeping secrets had done none of them good so far.

Candela shook her head emphatically. "I can't do that. In the river, he helped me stay calm and he got us both to land, even though I was freaking out, and even though I would have killed him a few seconds before. And I didn't deserve that kindness. I can't stand the thought of him knowing that I wasn't just defending myself against what I thought was an enemy. I can't look in his eyes and tell him that I-"

The door to the cell grated against the ground as it opened. Waik politely bowed to her captives, and then pointed a slim, bone-white finger at Blanche.

Blanche stood, but didn't approach her. Waik twitched her fingers, demanding Blanche's obedience. Blanche knew they'd have to follow her, but after everything Candela had said, they weren't ready to leave their friends alone together. They had to do something.

Blanche held up a finger, a _just one moment_ gesture that Waik appeared to begrudgingly acknowledge. They then pointed at their eye, and extended an invisible line from their eye to Candela and then to Spark. How Blanche wished they could think of the word for "watch," or "guard," or even for "eye."

There was one word that might get the point across, Blanche supposed. " _Bli-tauk,_ " they said to Waik. _Shield_. Their questionable childhood interest in the violent parts of history was paying off.

Waik's eyebrow twitched down as she tried to decipher Blanche's meaning. Then the light of understanding entered her ice-pale eyes, and she waved one of her guards into the room. Blanche nodded their approval, and started toward Waik.

"Wait, no, you can't leave us here," Candela insisted, hurrying to stand.

The guard's hand closed around the hilt of his sword, and Candela backed up. She looked to Blanche, her eyes questioning. Why did she look so wounded? Blanche was doing this to reassure her, to _protect_ her. Now there would be someone there to stop her, or Spark, if either of them… well, if either of them needed to be stopped. It wasn't as though Blanche could stay with them, as much as they wanted to.

"It will be OK, Candela," Blanche stated. "I'll be back."

Candela shrank against the far wall, her arms crossed tightly, as if she were cold. "You'd better be."

Blanche rolled back their shoulders, lifted their chin, and followed Waik out of the cell.

§

AN: FicCanon that I might not be able to delve into but wanted to express: Despite their interest in war and ancient justice systems, Blanche doesn't like violence. This is reflected in their battling style, which often relies on status-changing and environmental moves (which is why they like Bug and Grass types, in addition to their ultimate favorite: Water). But baby Blanche had a lot of pent-up frustration and a _serious_ sense of justice and morality. So after enduring the unfair treatment heaped on them by unkind classmates, they liked to retreat to their room and read about how wrong-doers in the past were dealt with. And they maybe imagined doing the same to those bullies, but only a little. Blanche also liked the art and architecture aspects of their readings, but found the cultural details of past societies to be difficult to comprehend.


	23. Chapter 23

The architecture of Waik's people seemed smooth and effortless, but Blanche realized the depths of mathematical precision required for composing the series of perfect domes and archways Waik led them through. The rock had been carved to appear soft and rounded. Even the metallic details – hanging lanterns, weapon racks, even furniture – were forged with gentle, fluid curves. The long hall they walked down was formed by a series of domed chambers and tall arches, as though it had been modeled after the segmented body of a weedle.

And yet, Blanche had yet to see a single pokémon. They kept their eyes peeled for artwork that resembled the intricate carvings on the stone door and great hall, but the decorations in this hall were sparse. Occasionally, they'd spot a curving design on the wall, made of metal hammered into the rock, but the designs were abstract, and were nothing like the images they'd seen on the other side of the portal. No images of people or pokémon. No images of anything.

At the end of the hallway was a final semi-spherical room, utterly barren except for a pair of dark, mossy cushions in the center of the floor, and four guards standing at attention against the walls. Waik lowered herself onto a cushion and spread her hand toward the open one. Blanche sat slowly, eying the guards, wondering what this room could possibly be intended for. They faced Waik, the kneecaps of their crossed legs almost touching hers. Was this a ceremony? Or some kind of trial?

Waik, blank-faced and unreadable, extended her hands toward Blanche. Hesitantly, Blanche mirrored her, palms twisted up. Waik's hands were cool and soft as they cupped Blanche's tan hands from below. Her thumbs pressed firmly but comfortably into the meaty tissue of Blanche's palms, holding them in place. This had to be ceremonial. Some kind of shared meditation, though Blanche wasn't sure they could relax enough to meditate with this stranger who had previously been bent on murdering them. Still, when Waik closed her eyes, Blanche forced their own eyes closed. Swift and unquestioning compliance could mean the difference between life and death.

At first, Blanche could think of nothing but the likelihood of one of the guards impaling them from behind with a saber, or of Waik slicing their throat while they sat like a blind fool before their jailor. But they heard no footsteps, no shuffle of clothing. Just the slow, easy inhales and exhales of the person across from them. Blanche timed their breathing to match Waik's, though they could hear their breath catch and shudder as they forced it from tense lungs.

Blanche wasn't sure how much time had passed when their breath finally turned smooth. They focused on the rhythm of the air entering and leaving their body, filling them on the inhale, expelling anxiety on the exhale.

In.

Out.

In.

There was light. Gray but bright.

Out.

In.

The hazy shape of a pine forest on a white ridge. Snow on the shoulders of bare trees. Blanche's nose felt cold.

Out.

In.

Out.

The snow was that perfect kind of cold that squeaked and whispered under Blanche's feet. _Shuff. Shuff._ They crossed a clearing that had been layered in four or five inches of snow that sparkled under the glow of a gray-white sky. A breeze hushed through the trees, swaying their exposed branches, lifting a lock of Blanche's hair. The world was muffled and peaceful. Blanche wanted to lie in the snow, let it melt against their neck, wet their skin.

They weren't alone. A woman in a bright orange parka stood ahead of Blanche, her head tilted to see the sky, her short, feather-light hair tousled by the same breeze that had passed Blanche. Only when she turned her pale blue eyes toward Blanche did they recognize her.

"Waik?"

Waik smiled. As unsettling as her eyes and sickly white skin were, her expression was warm and inviting. "So this is the sky, is it? I could barely find the right word. None of us have ever seen it. None of our great, great, great _grandparents_ have ever seen it. It's so bright…"

"How are you doing this? What's happening?" Blanche felt their pulse in their neck, accelerating. This was just as real as their hallucination at the waterfall, and just as impossible.

"I'm in your head," Waik said. "I'm guessing that's not something your people are used to?"

"Not really, no," Blanche said, swallowing. They stared at Waik's parka. "Is that…?"

Waik laughed. "Yes, I borrowed it from your memories of snow. You seemed so fond of this kind of memory, so I thought we could start our discussion here. This must be strange for you, and I apologize. I didn't know how else to talk to you, even though it sounds like you know a language that's little like mine."

She bent and raked her fingers through the snow. "Oh! It's a little sharp, isn't it? There's a place where the water freezes near our town, and the ice can be shaved to look this way. But this is real snow, isn't it? Snow. There's so much of it!"

Waik was like a child, her eyes full of wonder. Blanche felt that they were looking at a different person than the one they'd seen in the cave. They ventured a little closer.

"There you go," Waik encouraged. "Relax. We're safe in here. I'm sure I'm coming off as entirely unprofessional. You must understand that I have never seen a memory like this one. It's beautiful. You must linger here often. Your footprints are everywhere."

Blanche looked to the ground and saw Waik was right. The imprints of their boots crisscrossed the clearing. They did linger here often, they supposed. Though not quite this literally. The absurdity made them laugh.

Waik laughed with them. "There, perfect. I never got your name. Did your friends tell you mine? I thought I heard them mention it, but your language is so harsh and bumpy, I couldn't quite tell."

"I'm Blanche," they said. "They called you 'Waik.'"

Waik nodded, looking pleased. "Good. Now we can get down to business. I can't maintain this indefinitely."

Waik began to walk, and Blanche hurried to match pace. Though she was smaller than Blanche, she moved with swift, sure strides, faster than Blanche's comfortable walking speed.

"Wait," said Blanche. "I still don't understand how this is happening. How are we understanding each other? Why are we in my head? Why are _you_ in Spark's coat?"

Waik looked down at the coat, as if she were surprised. "Oh. I didn't realize it belonged to your friend. I saw it in your memory, and wanted to wear something that would help you think of me as a fellow human. I saw how you looked at us. Like we're specimens for study."

Blanche fell back a step, ashamed that Waik had hit the nail on the head with her insight. Now that Waik was speaking a familiar language and wearing familiar clothes, it was much easier to see her as a rational person, not some cave-dwelling simpleton with a sword.

"Don't worry about it. When I first saw you, I truly thought you were one of the Lost," Waik said. She caught Blanche's confused stare, and continued. "Right, you really are outsiders. Let me clear up the basic questions. Those of us who live here can commune in this way. It's a psychic bond between two people. I assumed you'd be familiar, especially since… well, we'll get back to that. Anyway, we understand each other because we're communicating via the most basic level of human thought. While it sounds to me like you're speaking the language I grew up with, I must sound to you like I'm speaking in your tongue. It's how our brains make sense of the language-less thoughts that we hold in common as human beings. Does that clear things up?"

"A bit," said Blanche, though they were still perplexed.

"Good. We have a lot of ground to cover."

Blanche gestured at the snowy hills and trees around them. "Literally or figuratively?"

"Yes," said Waik with a mischievous grin. Her eyes moved quickly across the wintery landscape, like she was searching for something. "To start with, I'd like to know who the hell the three of you are, because by all accounts, people like you shouldn't exist here."

"What do you-"

Waik scoffed. "You know what I mean. We've been sealed inside a mountain for hundreds of years. No one is supposed to be able to get in here, and you are _clearly_ not from these parts. Now, I'm just a small-town mayor, but I'm not as superstitious as my constituents. I'm sure you noticed their sudden reverence for you."

Blanche nodded. "I assume that has to do with the royalty who sealed you away in here."

At last, it was Waik's turn to be flabbergasted. She stopped midstride and stared with wide eyes at Blanche. Her awe melted into narrow-eyed suspicion. "How did you know that?"

Blanche described the stone door in detail to Waik, who never broke eye contact with them as they spoke. It gave Blanche a moral boost to have the upper hand, even temporarily. "I noticed a resemblance with the leaders of the armies and the mediator. Like you, I'm not prone to superstition. However, it would be naïve to ignore the parallels."

Waik brushed snow from a fallen log and sat, as if she needed respite from the weight of the information. "I'll be damned. But I have to tell you, Blanche. You got some of the details wrong."

"How so?"

"You described the armies as at war with each other, but they weren't. They were at war with Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres," Waik said. "Back in the time before the seal, this mountain was a mecca. Three neighboring nations – Aka, Ao, and Kiiro – sought to use it for their own purposes. The warlike Aka people wanted to claim the mountain for the sake of military strategy. They wanted the high ground and the forging potential of the heat source deep inside the mountain. The scholarly Ao people believed they could attain enlightenment by living on the highest peaks of the mountain, far from the rest of humanity, whom they dubbed as intellectually inferior. The kind people of Kiiro had lived on the mountain in peace for years, but kept a powerful militia to defend their home and the pokémon who relied on the area as a safe breeding ground."

Blanche sat next to Waik and shivered as a biting wind buffeted them. The gray sky was turning violet and magenta. Was night falling?

"The nations agreed to divide the mountain and work together. Aka could provide their strength, Ao their intellect, and Kiiro their insight. There was peace before the birds came to take the mountain for themselves," Waik said, casting her eyes to the ground as if remembering the incident herself. "They battled for dominance, raining devastation on the humans of the mountain. The warlords of Aka declared the need to attack the birds and either harness them, as they had with other pokémon, or drive them from the mountain. The council of Ao was quick to agree, as their homes were the most at risk. Fearing for the lives of their friends, the Kiiro people agreed to lend their small but in indomitable army."

The snowscape of Blanche's mind dimmed to shades of purple and navy as night set in. Fat snowflakes drifted from the clouds and settled on Blanche's sleeves and lap to slowly melt. They'd never heard of these nations. The Akanoir mountain range was vast, but it astounded them that three separate nations of people could exist there and then vanish without a trace. Well, _almost_.

"But there were three friends who disapproved of the war on the great birds: a commander from the Aka military, a researcher from Ao, and a storyteller from Kiiro," Waik said. She paused, watching the snowflakes spin and sink through the air, her lips slightly parted, breath visible in swiftly-dissipating puffs of steam. How foreign this must be to her, yet she continued with her story. "The storyteller believed the birds were doing something other than simply scrapping for territory. The researcher's observations backed him up, and the Aka commander encouraged her friends to take action. The three of them set out to face Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres alone."

Warm, yellow light spilled from the darkness, chasing the shadows from Waik's face. Blanche startled as they discovered a lamppost that hadn't previously been there, standing above them, spreading a circle of light across the snow, a perfect golden disc among the night-blue trees.

Waik touched Blanche's shoulder, making them jump again. "Take it easy. You're getting the hang of this place. You're in a dark mood, but you needed to see, and so we have a lamp."

Blanche still couldn't wrap their mind around everything that was happening, but if Waik could deliver a history lesson despite witnessing a completely unfamiliar meteorological phenomenon, Blanche could press on, too. "I… alright. What happened with the friends?"

"That part isn't very clear. It's been a thousand years, after all," Waik said. "In fact, much of the story I'm conveying to you comes from legends and oral histories. Who's to say what really happened so long ago? Our stories tell of the three friends approaching the birds and withstanding their attacks until some kind of bond was formed. We call it a predecessor to the psychic bonds we can create now. Through the bond, the pokémon warned the friends that the mountain was about to volcanically erupt, and the birds had merely wanted the humans out of harm's way. The friends delivered this information to a distrustful crowd of their peers, but when the birds stood peacefully alongside them, all three nations agreed to retreat. True to the birds' predictions, the volcano erupted a day after the people successfully evacuated."

"It does sound like a parable," Blanche commented.

"I agree. I haven't placed much merit in the historical accuracy of the stories, but then again, what happened next has defined the true and lived history of myself and my people," Waik said. A snowflake caught in her eyelashes and she delicately wiped it away with her fingertips. The snow fell thicker now, the flakes casting fluttering shadows in the ring of lamplight. "The nations united under the leadership of the friends and guardianship of the legendary birds, who remained bonded to their humans. The bonding gift was shared among the rest of the people, who became closely tied to their pokémon. So close that the line between one and the other began to blur."

Blanche pictured the carvings again, the people in apparent agony, growing claws, rearranging their bodies into something inhuman. _Hybrids_ , Dillinger had said. Goosebumps rose on Blanche's arms and legs, despite their warm clothes, despite the knowledge that the cold was all imagined.

"The new royalty could not endure sharing their minds with those of the birds. They all went mad in their own ways. The Kiiro storyteller lost his ability to see the truth. His intuition and wisdom were replaced by crushing terror. He saw things that weren't there, threats that didn't exist."

Candela spoke from Blanche's memory. _If you could have seen his face when he thought I was Dillinger…_

"The Aka commander was consumed by rage. She lost control of her emotions and became blinded by her own ferocity. Eventually, she couldn't be trusted to roam free, and was imprisoned by her own subjects."

The waterfall. That wild hate in her eyes. Candela's panicked words in the holding cell. _I saw him, and was going to murder him._

Blanche knew what was coming, and gathered the courage to proceed. "Tell me about the Ao researcher."

Waik toyed with the sleeve of her imaginary replica of Spark's parka as she spoke. "The Ao researcher disappeared into themself. They shut out the world. They claimed to have gone somewhere within themself, but their people claimed the researcher would simply sit and stare for hours, completely unreachable. They became like a living ghost."

"They…" Blanche had expected something more… binary. This was almost too on-the-nose.

"I'm not sure how the pronoun translated for you," Waik said, eyebrows twisted in thought. "The Ao people didn't use gendered terms. They claimed to be beyond gender."

Blanche stood, too filled with nervous energy to contain themself to the log. They fluffed the snow from their coat and tightened their ponytail to give their flighty hands something to do. They felt Waik's eyes on their back as they moved. She was observing and analyzing their reaction. Studying them. Deciding on what to do next depending on how Blanche behaved.

"Keep going," said Blanche, though they didn't sit back down. Their body was electric with restless energy.

Waik maintained her neutral, watchful expression. "Many people of the united nation went mad as well. When their bonds became too intense, they melded with their pokémon companions, creating monsters that were neither human nor pokémon. They were tortured souls, incapable of rational thought, driven by anger, much like the Aka commander was. We call them the Lost."

Once again, Blanche heard Candela's voice in their head. _I feel lost._

"The phenomenon spread like a plague," Waik said, standing and brushing the snow from her clothes like Blanche had done. "With the last of their sanity, the royals agreed that they needed to protect the world from themselves and their subjects, who were swiftly becoming violent, murderous creatures. With the help of the birds, they created a door into the depths of the mountain range, a door that could only be opened with the combined power of Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres, and yet would not allow the birds to enter. They believed that the birds had been the corrupting influence that led to the creation of the Lost, and if their people were kept away from them, the humans might be able to remain humans."

"And here you are," Blanche said.

Waik spread her arms. "And here we are."

It was as if a clock were being constructed in Blanche's mind. The information settled into their head like cogs and springs aligning, clicking into place. Every new piece brought the clock closer to functionality, and yet a few key components remained absent.

"So, how are _you_ here?"

"It's a long story," said Blanche.

"I can think of only one way into the mountain, and it involves the birds and long-dead royalty. And yet, the three of you made it in. How? I don't mind if it's the abbreviated version," Waik said.

"There was a portal, and a key, and yes, the legendary birds," Blanche said. Waik rubbed her chin thoughtfully, but said nothing. "We opened the portal, but it became unstable, and we and the birds were sucked through."

"Hm," said Waik. She opened her mouth to say something else, but suddenly flinched and clapped her hand to the side of her head, as if she'd been struck there.

"What's wrong?" Blanche asked.

"I can't keep this up for much longer. We should keep looking," Waik said, standing abruptly and striding into the snow. "Think you can give us some light again?"

"I can try," Blanche said. "What are we looking for?"

Blanche thought of morning, and as quickly as the thought formed, the sky began to lighten and streak with pink and orange. A halo of sun peeked over the horizon, giving the trees long, blue shadows that cut across the crisp whiteness of snow.

"What an amazing world you live in," Waik said, her face glowing in the bold morning light. She squinted in the light but didn't avert her eyes from the rising sun. Was this her first dawn? Her first glance at the sun? But none of this was even real. It was a fake sunrise, conjured from Blanche's memory, and for some reason, that thought made them feel guilty.

Waik snugged the neck of the parka closer to her neck and continued to walk. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, but she was smiling.

"You never said what we're looking for," Blanche reminded her.

Waik changed the subject, as if she hadn't heard Blanche speak. "The tragedy about our self-imposed exile is that we left all ties to pokémon behind. While the leaders blamed the birds for the melding phenomenon, they took no chances and banned pokémon from the inside of the mountain."

Blanche ducked their head to avoid a low-hanging, icicle-laden branch. "I don't understand. When we first entered the mountain, we were attacked by some of those creatures. The Lost, I mean. I would have thought they'd be long gone, based on your story."

"Our ancestors locked them in with us, thinking it was for the good of the region," Waik said, and her sharp delivery indicated her distaste for the fact. "They thrived down here just like we did, creating more and more monsters, growing further from humanity every century. We should have wiped them out when we had the chance, but now there are too many. They keep away from our settlements, for the most part. But they're still out there, and they're still deadly. When I saw that creature with you, I thought it must be Lost, but it was a pokémon, wasn't it?"

Blanche nodded and tried to imagine what it was like to live without pokémon. They were so essential to the society they'd come from, and yet here was a person who'd never seen one. It was hard for them to comprehend.

"So the world carried on without us, after all," Waik said, her voice soft and wistful. A strong breeze fluffed her hair and her expression sobered. "I think we're close."

"Close to what?" Blanche was starting to become annoyed.

But the answer came without Waik having to respond. In front of them, the lake from Blanche's childhood sprawled, iced-over and lightly blanketed by new-fallen snow. In the center, curled against the rising wind, sat Articuno. Blanche let out a choked cry of surprise. The legendary pokémon looked so much smaller than it should have, balled up as it was, eyes closed to slits, feathers protruding at odd angles. It looked sick. Blanche didn't know it could _be_ sick.

"What is going on?" Blanche asked, freezing in place. "I didn't imagine Articuno like I imagined the dawn or the lamppost or the snow. Why is it here? What's wrong with it?"

Waik sank to the ground, catching herself woozily with her arms so she didn't collapse completely. Blanche wanted to go to her, but their feet seemed anchored to the spot.

"I knew it would be here. I knew it, but I couldn't believe it," Waik said, laughing humorlessly. "I thought I felt something inside of the three of you. We all did. That strong energy coming from your heads when you all stood there together."

"Waik, why is it here? What's happening?" Blanche's voice rose in pitch. They needed to keep calm. This was all in their head, and the only reason they were anxious about it was because of Waik's reaction.

"The birds hitched a ride with you when you all came through the portal, but they can't exist in here. Or, I thought they couldn't. They've found a loophole, though I don't understand how they pulled it off," Waik said, her voice thin. She looked so tired and flimsy. "You're sharing headspace with an incredibly powerful pokémon, Blanche. No human can manage that for long."

Suddenly, Blanche understood the source of their rising fear. "What happened to the royals? After you went underground?"

"You aren't them. They aren't your future," Waik said.

"Stop dodging my questions," Blanche demanded.

The wind picked up, whipping Blanche's hair and causing the trees to moan and creak. Articuno stirred on the ice and opened one glossy, unfocused eye to watch the humans on the shore.

"You already know what happened. I can feel your fear," Waik said. "They were too far gone by the time the portal closed. Their minds were so badly damaged by the birds that they couldn't withstand the separation. They died within a week of closing the door."

Clumps of snow fell from the trees as they quaked in the wind. Waik turned her shoulder against the gusts, but still barely had the power to sit upright.

"Like I said," Waik panted. "They aren't your future. You can still get out of here and release the birds before they destroy you. Look at Articuno. It doesn't want to be here. It's suffering. Once you leave this mountain, it will detach from you, and you can all be free again. Do you understand?"

"You told me the royals went mad. It's already happening to us," Blanche said. They envisioned a calm, still morning, like they'd done to turn night to day, but the wind continued to howl.

Waik pressed her hand to her chest, as if she were struggling to breathe. "I know. I had to give your friend something to calm him down after he threatened your other friend with a sword. I thought maybe he was just concussed, but now..."

"It's not just Spark. We've all experienced something. I need to know if it's too late for us," Blanche said.

Waik looked at them as if they were mad, which they supposed wasn't far from the truth. "What good would knowing that do? Would you just give up? I honestly don't know the answer, Blanche. But regardless of the parallels, you are not the people who locked us in this mountain. You're in control of your own destiny, and I still believe you have time to get out of here and save yourselves. I will show you a way out. The other side of the door. You should have arrived through it, but something must have gone wrong."

Waik squeezed her eyes shut and bared her teeth, withstanding an invisible pain.

"Are you OK?" Blanche asked.

"You'll need the birds to open the door," Waik went on, sounding strained. "Some people say the royals were meant to return and free us through it. Maybe they weren't so crazy after all. Unh, I can't keep this up. I have to break the connection."

Dillinger had said the same thing, that the society must have expected to leave the mountain someday. Blanche clasped their hand over their mouth. Team Rocket. They were still in here somewhere, and Blanche doubted they'd play nicely with Waik's people. Blanche had to warn her.

"We weren't the only ones who came through," Blanche said, and the wind was so loud they had to shout.

"What?" Waik was barely hanging on, her eyes rolling back in her head, her chest heaving.

"There's a group of scientists in here with us. They're the ones who forced us to bond with the birds and open the portal. You have to watch out for them! They're dangerous, Waik, they-"

In a flash of white, everything blazed out of existence.

Blanche's head lolled and with clouded, jittery vision, they saw the dark, round room again. Guards ran toward Waik and Blanche, asking something in the language that Blanche couldn't quite decipher. They crowded around Waik and lifted her limp body from the cushion. Blanche tensed, fearing the guards would think they'd done something to her in that psychic dream world.

But the guards – politely but firmly – took them under the arms and lifted them as well. They marched Blanche swiftly out of the room and back into the long, segmented hallway. As Blanche twisted their neck to see Waik's petite body being carried down another passageway, they hoped their message had made it through.

There were scarier things in these caves than the Lost.

§

 **AN:** Lots of exposition, I know. This was tough to write because of that and several other reasons. For one, the fact that the wedding is now 9(!) days away (as I write this on 11/10/16). Also, I've not been motivated to write because my country just elected the most damaging, unstable, and hateful man imaginable to the highest political position available. I'm heartbroken, and I'm afraid for my future as a gay woman, and for the futures of my POC friends, and for all of those who are put in danger because of the culture that has been cultivated in what should be a progressive and powerful nation. However, I hope that by writing, I can create an escape for myself and for others. The next chapter will finally have some joy in it! Be safe, be strong, and be kind (and I won't make political rants a regular thing, I promise!).


	24. Chapter 24

Dr. Dillinger ran until her thighs burned and every breath set fire to her lungs. She blundered through the dark twists and turns of the tunnel, heart pounding, sweating through her clothes despite the chill of the cave, knocking against the walls, tripping over the uneven floor. She ran like her life depended on it. She ran _because_ her life depended on it.

The toe of her shoe wedged into an unseen crack in the ground and Dillinger was thrown forward. The heels of her palms scraped on the rough rock, but she barely felt the sting of it. Dazed, she remained sprawled on the stone for several seconds. Her own breathing deafened her. Was it her breathing? Or was it the monster's? She tried to hold her breath and listen.

Silence. Blessed, beautiful silence.

Dillinger thought she might cry. She'd done it. She'd outrun that… that _thing._ A hybrid, like she'd seen in the artwork her team had uncovered and analyzed. Feral and vicious and blood-freezing. Not to mention impossible. Nothing should have been able to survive in a place like this. Certainly nothing of that size and strength. If she didn't know better, Dillinger would say the creature wasn't just surviving, but thriving.

Something brushed her arm, and before she could scream, a hand closed over her mouth. She flailed her limbs wildly to escape, but whatever had hold of her pinned her arms behind her back and immobilized her.

"Shh! Calm down. It's just me."

Captain Pollard's voice grated on Dr. Dillinger's nerves, but she'd take him over a bloodthirsty monster any day. She stopped fighting and he released her. As soon as she could, she scrambled to sit up, folding her arms defiantly across her chest.

Even in the dim light, she could see his obnoxious smirk as he spoke. "Didn't hear me at all, did you? Don't beat yourself up over it. I've had years of stealth training. I can move more quietly than a shadow."

The bloodthirsty monster was starting to seem more appealing by comparison.

"Congratulations," Dr. Dillinger said. "Did you use that stealth training to sneak away from your troops while they were running for their lives?"

"Of course not, Joannie. I mean, Doctor," said Pollard. "My team is as highly trained as I am. They're laying low until I give the order to rendezvous."

"Highly trained?" Dillinger scoffed. "They didn't look highly trained when the hybrids ambushed our camp. They looked petrified."

"As opposed to your scientists? The ones who panicked and scattered the second the attack began?" Pollard reminded her.

"You said yourself that this part of the mission is your domain," Dillinger said. "You and your people were supposed to keep us safe. After a few skirmishes between your pokémon and the creatures, you all gave up and scattered too."

Pollard drew back his shoulders and Dillinger was pleased to see his smile falter. "We know better than to fight battles we can't win. Our pokémon were being slaughtered, Doctor. Not knocked out, mind you. Killed. Dead pokémon don't do us any good, and it was necessary to retreat before our assailants could slaughter us as well."

Dillinger had seen plenty of dead pokémon in her time, all in the name of science. But what she'd witnessed during the attack was something else entirely. The monsters had swarmed out of the very walls of the tunnel Team Rocket had been camped in. Sandshrew and sandslash hybrids led the charge, cutting through the stone as easily as butter, followed by a rush of other horrifying amalgams. Eyeless zubat hybrids, their wings structured like hands, tiny vestigial legs tucked close to their torsos. Geodude creatures that walked on their hands and opened their mouths to reveal human teeth. Images that would haunt Joan Dillinger's dreams for the rest of her life.

The Rockets had deployed their pokémon quickly, but the pokémon were just as terrified as their masters. Some ignored their commands and fled. Others landed a few hits, but the hybrids hardly looked fazed. When the hybrids struck the pokémon back, it wasn't like any battle Dillinger was familiar with. The blows were devastating and often lethal. The monsters' claws left wounds too brutal for mere potions to heal. Pokémon didn't fight each other like this, not in civilized battles. Despite the evils Dillinger had subjected her experiments to, the sight of such a massacre turned her stomach.

Pollard fiddled with his communicator, checking messages from the rest of the Rockets. Dillinger reached in her pocket for hers before remembering its absence. She hated how naked she felt without it.

"Any news?" she asked Pollard.

"Everyone's still sitting tight, but the creatures are starting to recede," he said.

Dillinger nodded, and then another thought occurred. "How did you find me?"

"I saw you fleeing from a large sandslash creature and figured you could use a hand," Pollard replied, his condescending smile returning, though not as brightly as before.

Dillinger adjusted her glasses and squinted in the direction she'd come from. "Right. Thanks for turning up now that I've escaped it. Very helpful."

"You had the situation under control. The thing turned back pretty quickly, actually. I just wanted to see how far you'd run."

Her face flushed. "What the hell, Pollard?!"

"Relax! I figured the further we ran, the better," Pollard said with an innocent shrug. "And we're running in the right direction. "

"How do you figure that?"

"For one, any direction that's away from the monsters is the right one," Pollard said, and Dillinger had to grant him that. "Secondly, your research reflects that the society that fled down here intended to live toward the center of the mountain, and we're headed that way. Maybe there will be some clues there about getting out of this place."

Dillinger uncrossed her arms. "You actually read my research?"

"It was mission critical. Don't act so surprised," said Pollard. "Now, we just need to get cozy for a little while, and then we can instruct everyone to track my communicator and meet us in a safe place."

Dillinger watched him type for a few seconds. "Do you think we could track _my_ communicator?"

Pollard looked at her as if she were spouting nonsense. "I suppose we could, but it would need to be turned on and have its beacon feature enabled. Not that it matters, because we're not turning our whole outfit around to find your lost gadget."

Dillinger's eyebrow twitched. "I didn't lose it. It was stolen from me by the team leaders. If you read my research, then you know that finding the three of them is critical to us getting home. If we can track my communicator, we can track them."

"I suppose you have a point there," Pollard acknowledged. "I'll give it a shot, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

Captain Pollard clicked through his communicator. Dillinger waited anxiously, drumming her fingernails on the ground. The captain frowned at his screen and grunted.

"No luck?" Dillinger asked.

"Sadly, no," he said.

"Damn."

Pollard tucked his communicator away and leaned back against the wall. Dillinger rotated to sit next to him, close enough that the darkness wasn't as scary, but far enough away to indicate that she was not enjoying the experience of being in his proximity.

"We need the birds too, you know," Pollard noted.

"I know," Dillinger said. "And I know that if Blanche, Candela, and Spark run into trouble, the birds will be close behind to help them out. So, I'll have to bring them some trouble."

"And I'll make it double," Pollard said, quoting the goofy motto some of the grunts liked to use. "Do you have a containment plan?"

"The birds should still be connected to the trio. If not, I'm sure I can rekindle that bond," Dillinger said, tightening her hands into fists. "Even with our pokémon depleted, we still outnumber them. We simply overpower the leaders and use them as bargaining chips with the legendary birds."

"I'm sure the leaders are eager to escape this place as well. Maybe we won't have to overpower them. Since that went _so_ well the first time," Pollard quipped.

Dillinger snorted. "They'd rather die down here than let us escape with them. At the very least, Candela will require some… persuasion."

They sat silently for a few minutes as Dillinger fantasized about what kind of "persuasion" she'd use on her targets.

"Do you think they might have already gotten out?" Pollard asked.

Dr. Dillinger smiled. "Impossible. They're missing a key piece of knowledge. Come on, now. You read my research, right?"

She relished the look of confusion on Pollard's face as he mentally reviewed her dozens of reports.

"Alright, I'll throw you a bone," she said. "One of the tablets we uncovered suggests that a safeguard exists in the case that the door is activated from within the mountain. I didn't pay this tablet much attention, I'll admit. Not only was it confusing and contradictory in a way, it seemed irrelevant, since I believed the door could only open from the outside, and would stay open permanently. I thought it was meant as a way to discourage members of the society from attempting to open the door once they were trapped here. But now I see that it was a measure to prevent history from repeating itself."

"Get on with it," Pollard said when Dillinger paused for dramatic effect.

"The royals and the birds seemed to be the source of all their woes. If the people wanted to go back out into the world, wouldn't it make sense to remove one of the factors that led to their self-imposed imprisonment in the first place? And what's easier to remove: three almighty legendary pokémon? Or three defenseless humans?"

Captain Pollard's eyes lit up with realization and for once, Dillinger didn't want to slap the smile off his face.

She laughed lightly. "Now you see it. To open the door, the royals must die."

§

 **AN:** Well, I said the next chapter would be more cheerful, but I lost what I'd started for that chapter because I thought I could repair my laptop's keyboard myself and (completely predictably) botched the whole thing. In my heartbroken state, I couldn't bring myself to rewrite the chapter just yet, in case I can retrieve the data from the hard drive (I think I just static-fried the motherboard, not the actual "brain" of the thing) and pick up where I left off. I'm using a tablet to write for now, but it's a frustrating process (hence the short "I'm still alive and producing fiction" chapter). Back your stuff up, kiddos, and don't dissemble laptops in your living room, even if you're trying to prove to your employer that you're not an absolute disaster, even if you kind of are.

But that's not my big news! I GOT HITCHED! I've been married for over a week! WHAAAAT. I just celebrated my first birthday as a married person yesterday (it's been a helluva week, my dudes). To everyone who wished me well, my wife(HOLY WOW) and I thank you! Speaking of thank yous, I have a ridiculous number of those to write and send in the next couple weeks. So my production might be a little slow again, between that and the dead laptop. And Pokémon Sun. Finally evolved that beautiful Alolan Persian. Her name is Lord Honey, and she's a total queen. ANYWAY. Not to worry, I'm still here, and I have big plans for this story, and I hope you stick with me on this adventure! Thank you for reading!


	25. Chapter 25

When Blanche finished describing their encounter to Candela and Spark, they had the nerve to ask, "So, does that all make sense?"

Candela clasped her hands behind her head, trying to keep cool. "Honestly, Blanche, _none_ of that made sense. But nothing new there, right?"

Spark stared at a spot on the wall of the cell, eyes narrowed, hair even more disheveled than usual. "So there are legendary pokémon… in our heads… right now."

"Yeah, how does that even work?" Candela asked.

"I don't know. Perhaps it's their essence or spirit. Some kind of psychic imprint," Blanche said, grasping for a suitable explanation. "Whatever the case, Waik thinks it's dangerous, and I'd have to agree. Since the birds can't exist in their usual forms here in the mountain, our only chance to rid ourselves of them is to get back outside. Waik claims to know a way out, and it sounds a lot like the way we came in."

"As in, it will require the birds? Will that work while they're stuck inside our minds?" Spark asked.

Blanche, who sat on their knees in front of them, tightened their fists. "I didn't think of that. Waik must think it will work, and I'm inclined to trust her. I hope she's alright. She collapsed at the end of our conversation. I tried to warn her about Team Rocket, but I'm not sure that she heard me."

"Not that we've seen any sign of them since we arrived," Candela commented.

"Waik said something must have gone wrong with the door, likely because it was collapsing while we went through. The Rockets could have been scattered throughout the mountain, not just deposited at a single point. We saw a few retreating from the chamber we arrived in, but they may have been separated from most of their group. They could all be split up, wandering aimlessly around the caves like we've been doing," Blanche suggested.

"Did Waik say if there were other towns like this one?" Spark asked, still staring at the wall.

"She made it seem like this is actually a small town, though it seems fairly large to me. There must be cities throughout the mountain range. Hopefully, the Rockets are just as disoriented as we are, and won't pose a real threat to the mountain dwellers, even with their pokémon," Blanche said.

"But they don't have pokémon, and won't know what to expect," said Spark. "Maybe they've been fending off the Lost all these years, but this will be different. I'd like to think the Rockets wouldn't turn their pokémon loose on human beings, but they've already proven they aren't above that. Both the mountain dwellers and the pokémon will be at risk."

Candela's heart ached for the Rocket pokémon. No pokémon should ever be used in such a way. Pokémon were meant to battle each other, in careful, nonlethal matches. But when they fought people, the game could turn deadly for both parties. It was unnatural and unfair to everyone involved. Such gruesome warfare hadn't been legal for years, but Team Rocket had apparently missed the memo.

"I don't know that we can do anything but warn Waik's people and hope that Team Rocket will have the sense not to pick a fight with them," Blanche said. "After all, they didn't expect the civilization to survive down here. They thought they'd be searching ruins for a secret to human-pokémon bonding. Once they find a large and living community in their way, they'll be forced to turn back."

"But they can't turn back," Candela said. "We're their ticket out of here, and they might not even know it."

Spark finally looked away from the wall. He'd been a little dazed since he'd woken from his drug-induced sleep, but his eyes blazed with focus now. "So we find the Rockets and lead them out of here."

"Spark, the mountain is huge, and they could be anywhere," Blanche said.

"Then we find a way to communicate with all of them. Let them know there's a way out," Spark said.

"I see what you're saying, but how are we supposed to pull that off?" Candela asked.

Spark considered it for a moment. "Dillinger's communicator."

"I couldn't turn it on after the bag fell in the river. In the best of situations, it's simply out of energy, but I'm concerned it was damaged by the water," Blanche said.

"Not to mention it might have been fried by the portal," Candela reminded Spark. "We couldn't make a call to the Professor with it."

"Right, but that was a call directed outside of the mountain," Spark said, picking up steam. "Maybe that was the problem. Maybe there's a function on it that will let it reach other Team Rocket communicators, like a radio signal or something. They've been doing their research underground for a while, and I'm sure reception was terrible, even on the other side of the door. But Dr. Dillinger could make calls and send messages to other Rockets, so they must have developed a work-around. If the communicator just needs a charge, Rutabaga can take care of it. She'll have to be careful, but I've had her charge my electronics before."

"This is all assuming we'll be reunited with our pokémon and the duffel bag," Candela said, crossing her arms.

"I'm sure we will. When Waik comes to, we'll be let out of this cell, she'll return our pokémon and belongings, and she'll direct us on where to go," Blanche said.

Candela flattened her lips to keep herself from commenting on how trusting Blanche was of their captor. She wanted to ask why Waik had chosen Blanche to commune with, but she feared she knew the answer. Blanche's new intracranial roommate was prone to quiet, harmless dissociation, not wild bouts of violence. If Waik was going to take a walk in any of their skulls, Blanche's made the most sense.

The door to the cell scraped open, and all three leaders jumped to their feet expectantly. A pair of stone-faced guards beckoned them out, and Blanche was the first to approach them. Spark followed, exchanging an uneasy look with Candela, the limp back in his step. She didn't like how compliant Blanche had become either, considering Waik had been in favor of execution prior to their psychic rendezvous, but she had to trust them and hope for the best.

As the guards led them out of the well-fortified cellblock, the rumble of distant drums became audible. Good. They were going to be ritualistically sacrificed. Candela had seen enough campy movies to know that drums in the distance typically meant someone was going to be burned at the stake or chopped up and plopped in a cannibal's cauldron. She tugged Spark's wrist to get his attention.

"You getting the same bad feeling as I am?" she whispered.

"Weirdly, the ominous drumming isn't worrying me that much," Spark said, frowning.

"Are you sure the pond scum wonder-drug is completely out of your system?"

"Yes," Spark said. He stumbled as his ankle failed to function properly and added, "Unfortunately."

Candela offered him her arm, and he reluctantly held it, relieving some of the pressure from his injury. She observed the red glow of his ears, either from embarrassment or frustration or some mixture of the two. Maybe Waik could spare some more of her unappetizing concoction. As disconcerting as it was to see Spark influenced by it, she liked seeing him relaxed, the lines of worry erased from his brow, free from the pain and fear that pervaded this place. Hell, Candela wouldn't mind trying some herself.

The thunderous noise amplified dramatically as the guards guided the trio out of the building. The apparent town square that had been nearly empty when they'd been jailed several hours before now swarmed with activity. A pillar of flame rose from the center of the square, and for a second, Candela imagined the agonizing, fiery death that loomed before her. But then she saw the faces in the crowd, smiling, laughing, not menacing at all. Still not a great sign, but the atmosphere didn't feel murderous.

Strings of lanterns crisscrossed the square, chasing away any of the darkness that the central bonfire hadn't. Beneath the lanterns, people chattered and danced and pointed and carried on, festive and vibrant. A melody rose above the bass tones of the massive drums that circled the fire on metal stands. The music was percussive but rich, harmonizing and zipping through runs, the tempo swift and jovial.

As if he could sense Candela's confusion over the source of the more lyrical lines of music, Spark pointed to a long array of flat stone slabs, aligned from large to small, in front of one of the dwellings at the edge of the square. Candela had never seen a xylophone quite like this. It had to be 20 feet long, each key a half foot in width, played by four musicians with long mallets that they twirled above their heads when they weren't striking notes.

"What in the actual-"

Spark pressed his finger to Candela's lips to shush her as Waik stepped in front of them, appearing out of nowhere, so short that the guards had obstructed Candela's view of her. Her dark-ringed eyes and slumped shoulders gave her a haggard appearance, like she'd aged several years since Candela's first exchange with her, but she smiled at Blanche and positioned herself next to them.

Candela pushed Spark's hand away from her face. "Aren't _they_ looking chummy," she grumbled to Spark.

"Jealous?" Spark teased, his nose crinkled impishly.

"Suspicious," Candela corrected. "What's even happening right now? One minute people are kneeling before us, the next we're imprisoned, and Blanche is having a literal tête-à-tête with a woman whose first instinct was to execute them. And now this… whatever this is?"

"A festival, I think," Spark said. He sniffed the air and smiled. "A festival _with food._ "

Candela's stomach rumbled as she breathed in the savory scent of something cooking nearby. Maybe she was getting too worked up over this. Maybe she _was_ jealous of how quickly Blanche had decided to trust someone that Candela couldn't even hold a conversation with. She was ashamed of that spark of envy in her heart, and a bit surprised. Candela thought of herself as a resilient woman, able to roll with the punches. So why was she so hung up on this? Perhaps she could blame her cranky, skeptical mood on low blood sugar.

Waik turned to face the three of them and spread her hand toward the busy square, wearing a smile like an embarrassed parent introducing an unruly but well-intentioned child. People in the square finally noticed the presence of their leader and her three guests, and their voices rose to shouts. They waved and pointed and signaled to friends and family in their ranks. Waik's smile wavered, confirming Candela's impression that she didn't approve of the raucous welcome that had been prepared.

Despite Waik's uncertainty, she parted the cheering crowd with a wave of her frail hand and motioned for Blanche, Spark, and Candela to accompany her toward the middle of the square. Happy shouts and wild music left Candela's ears ringing, but the celebratory mood was contagious. She felt herself smiling without meaning to, mirroring the ghost-white faces that surrounded her.

Someone took her by the shoulders from behind as she reached the bonfire. She tensed, but allowed herself to be guided to a seat at a long, coppery table laden with plates of unfamiliar, steaming food. Blanche sat next to her, their olive eyes wide, taking in every detail. They flashed a brief smile at Candela but quickly became distracted by a pair of villagers who had pulled Spark aside.

Spark's face flushed as one of the men held him steady and the other examined his ankle, wrapping a length of cord around it, marking the cord with charcoal, and bending the foot up and down to check the range of motion. Candela barely heard Spark's polite but insistent protests above the roar of humanity around them.

Waik shooed the men away and pulled Spark to a seat on the other side of Candela, shaking her head apologetically before rushing off into the crowd again.

"What was that?" Candela asked him.

Spark shrugged, looking as flustered as a spearow hatchling. Blanche leaned forward to speak, but the crowd noise swelled before the words could come out.

From behind the bonfire, a great, flaming bird soared. It took Candela a few breathless beats to recognize that it was not really alive, so dazed was she by the cacophony and smoke and overwhelming scents of fire-roasted food. The cloth-and-steel bird was held aloft by poles, carried by three puppeteers that walked below it. The wings were constructed of greased cloth, burning so brightly they left an afterimage in Candela's eyes as the puppeteers guided the fake Moltres around the fire. Candela felt the eyes of her friends on her, but couldn't look away.

Next came a shining metal creature, flown on poles much like the bird before it. Flat, jagged strips of brass imitated Zapdos' spiky plumage, and the metallic feathers flashed with each beat of the broad wings. The articulated beak opened and closed when a trigger at the base of the central pole was depressed. These constructs could not be new. With this degree of engineering, they had to have been around for a while.

Finally, Articuno appeared from behind the licking flames. The blue-tinted, glowing crystals that peppered the cave system were woven in intricate swirls into the dark cloth that formed the bird's body. A fourth puppeteer guided the long, silky tail feathers, undulating them as if they flowed in the wind. The bird swam through the air like a living thing, trailing its siblings in a loop.

Candela finally managed to tear her gaze away to look at her equally wonderstruck friends. While they'd been preoccupied by the show, Waik had returned to the table. She stood behind Blanche, her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the fire, lips pressed so tightly that they lost their small amount of pigment. It didn't require Spark's powers of intuition to deduce her opinion of the impromptu festival.

As if Waik could feel Candela's eyes on her, she glanced to the side and met the Valor leader's gaze. Candela quickly looked away, pretending that she'd merely been observing the throng of people around them. At the edge of her vision, she could tell Waik was still staring at her with those eyes, foggy blue like sea glass.

To Candela's relief, Waik eventually blinked and stepped in front of the table to address the three friends. She gestured at the food, motioning with her hands for her guests to eat. She offered a weak smile of encouragement that vanished when a long-limbed woman stepped out of the crowd and whispered something in her ear. The woman handed Waik a stone tablet and tapped insistently on it. Waik waved the woman off, her nearly invisible brows drawn tight as her eyes roved over the tablet hungrily. Candela tried to lean to the side enough to see what Waik was looking at, but before she could get a decent angle, Waik tucked the tablet into the folds of her robe. She motioned again for the three of them to eat, then followed the gangly woman into the crowd.

Candela waited until Waik was out of sight before she spoke. "OK, what the hell is this about?"

"I'm not sure, but Waik is barely tolerating it," Blanche said as they squinted suspiciously at the banquet before them.

The crowd cheered as the birds made another loop around the fire and then dispersed into the masses.

Spark skewered a dumpling-like morsel with the two-pronged metal utensils their benefactors had provided. "I don't know about you guys, but if I had been trapped in a cave for a few centuries and told stories about how a group of royals would return to free me someday, I'd probably throw a party for them when they showed up, too."

"Maybe more than one party," Candela agreed as the puppet-Moltres flapped by again, its fiery wings crackling. "I bet they have at least a couple holidays or ceremonies or something revolving around the story of the royals and legendary birds."

"I wonder why Waik isn't on board with this particular party," Spark mused before popping the dumpling into his mouth.

Blanche started and grabbed his wrist before he could go for another. "Spark! You don't even know what that is!"

Spark chewed thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side then the other, as if he were a critic at a classy restaurant. He swallowed and nodded his approval. "Whatever it is, it's a million times better than a cave drug smoothie. It tastes like mushrooms, actually. Try one, Blanche."

He stabbed another dumpling and offered it to them, but Blanche leaned back, a slight sneer twisting their lip. Candela chuckled and picked up what looked like a dark, greenish round of flat bread from a nearby dish. It was soft and spongy between her fingers, a texture similar to a Portobello mushroom, and yet different.

Before Candela could try a bite, Blanche interrupted. "We don't know how their food will affect us. We need to be cautious."

"I was given some soup when Spark and I first arrived, remember? And nothing bad happened. I think we'll be alright," Candela said. "Blanche, I know you're picky, but you have to eat something. All we've had in the past who-knows-how-long is junk food and granola bars. We need something more substantial if we want to keep going."

Blanche's eyes narrowed and Candela knew she'd struck the nerve she'd been aiming for.

"I'm _not_ picky. I'm being rational," they said, taking the dumpling from Spark with more force than necessary. "I suppose if you're alright, I will be as well."

Spark and Candela shared amused expressions as Blanche tentatively brought the dumpling close to their face, their movements short and choppy, as if they were fighting with their own body to deliver the morsel to their mouth. In a moment of decisiveness, Blanche squeezed their eyes shut and took a bite. After a few slow chews, their face relaxed, and their brows lifted in pleasant surprise.

"Not so bad, right?" Spark prompted.

Blanche politely covered their mouth with their hand to answer. "Better than junk food."

"OK, well, let's not make any crazy claims," Spark said, reaching for more mysterious dishes.

The conversation ceased as the three began to eat, deaf to all but their awakened hunger. Candela started slowly, unsure of what to expect. The salty broth she'd had before reminded her of improvised miso soup, and the salty theme carried over to this meal. Each new and strange dish was a different sort of savory. Some flavors she could recognize, like the woodsy mushroom taste, or dark, bitter hints of seaweed. Others were completely foreign to her, and she could hardly come up with the words to describe them. The bread-like thing she'd first picked up, for example. It tasted creamy and rich, but also slightly tangy in a tongue-tingling way she'd never experienced before. What was it? Where had it come from? Were these people somehow able to farm here in the eternal darkness? They had water, she supposed, and the presence of the massive bonfire suggested that the cavern was ventilated in some way. But what about sunlight and soil?

If these questions were occurring to Candela, she was certain Blanche was pondering the same things. In any other circumstance, coming across this bizarre and isolated vestige of ancient culture would have been a dream come true for Blanche. It was a treasure trove of lost knowledge, the kind of discovery Blanche had strived for all their life. They were just as invested in the evolution of mankind as they were in the evolution of individual species of pokémon. Candela had witnessed them rant about that point on several occasions, after they'd had enough wine to let their words flow freely. If Blanche had the time to truly study this place, maybe they'd finally be satisfied. Maybe they'd finally be _happy._

But they didn't have the luxury of time. If what Waik had told Blanche was true, none of them could last long in the mountain. Candela's heart flooded with guilt as she remembered the rage that had possessed her. She couldn't let that happen again. The sooner Moltres was out of her head, the better.

The men who had intercepted Spark on the way to the table suddenly reappeared, carrying a tangle of metal and cord. They beckoned for Spark emphatically, smiling, yelling to be heard over the ambient noise, despite the language barrier. Spark turned to Blanche for translation, but they were absorbed in the activity of dissecting one of the dumplings and separating the ingredients for analysis. He looked next to Candela, who shrugged.

The men lost patience and came around the table for him. Spark allowed them to guide him out of his seat, his eyes lingering longingly on the little plate he'd prepared for himself but hadn't had the chance to enjoy. Candela watched apprehensively as the men stood Spark in front of the table and set to strapping bowed pieces of metal around his wounded ankle.

In a matter of seconds, they completed their task and stood back to admire their handiwork. Curved steel framed Spark's foot, forming a rocker that reminded Candela of the rocking ponyta toy she'd adored as a child. Flat bars provided support to the ankle joint, and the prosthetic was held in place with braided cord. Spark gingerly applied pressure to the leg, his arms outspread in case the jerry-rigged contraption unbalanced him. He released a surprised laugh as the construct rocked with his weight.

The men gesticulated excitedly, clearly asking for feedback. Spark smiled broadly and flashed a double thumbs-up, a gesture that the men seemed baffled by at first, but used the context to accept as a positive response. They mimicked the motion, shaking their thumbs, laughing and clapping each other on the back.

"It's like a walking boot," Blanche said, their attention finally pulled away from their inspection of the meal. "So much of the architecture here appears simple, but this is a piece of precise and efficient engineering. Look at how seamlessly the components have been soldered together…"

There was no mistaking the ache in their voice. They wanted to know what else this world was hiding. They thirsted for the information that had been lost to history for so long, but there was no time to quench that thirst. The intricacies of metalworking didn't interest Candela, but she understood that lust for understanding, and her heart hurt to see the wistful look on Blanche's face.

"This is great! How cool is this?" Spark exclaimed, clunking around in a clumsy circle as he acclimated to the gift. Candela caught a brief grimace pull his face as he adjusted, but at least he was walking independently. Every step was smoother than the last, until his limp was scarcely noticeable.

The drums abruptly changed their rhythm, and a new, faster melody started up. The three puppet-birds appeared out of the crowd again and formed a line. A trail of dancers followed them into the open space near the fire. They moved their arms in complex, fluid configurations, almost like a form of martial arts. Many of the dancers were children, struggling to match the patterns of their elders, giggling as they tried to keep up.

Spark staggered out of the way as the line passed him by, his smile so wide Candela thought he might split his face in two.

"Oh no, please don't…" Candela groaned as Spark's foot began to tap.

She shielded her face in embarrassment as Spark attempted to join in the dance. The dancers broke away from the line to watch, chuckling, slowing down their movements to help Spark recreate them. An old woman with a hunched back and a grinning, wrinkled face took his wrists to guide him along and clapped as he started to catch on. Just like any above-ground grandmother, she patted his cheek affectionately as he perfected the move, which made Spark and the gaggle of children who had collected around him laugh all the harder.

The adults fell in line again to parade back into the crowd, which now writhed with other dancers. The children, however, remained with Spark, showing him different moves, swinging their hips, throwing their arms in the air, kicking their feet in time to the beat. One little boy, maybe five years old, tugged on Spark's robe and demonstrated a move that focused on swinging his chubby little forearms back and forth. Spark deliberately mimicked the move in the goofiest way he could, and the boy dissolved into giggles and tried to show him again.

"Like this?" Spark asked as he performed an even more absurd rendition.

The little boy laughed so riotously that it was more of a shriek, the kind of laughter that only children have the spirit to make, that eruption of joy bigger than their small bodies can contain, bigger than any sorrow they could know. He and the other kids began to show off their silliest dance moves, sticking out their tongues and crossing their eyes as they did, slowing only to giggle at each other and try to guide Spark's arms like the old woman had.

Spark's smile shone as bright as the fire behind him. Just like when they were kids, playing in the woods together, catching their first pokémon, or telling each other stories. That pure, uncontainable smile that infected everyone around him, that could clear away gray skies and turn the ordinary into the extraordinary.

Candela hadn't seen that smile for much too long.

"Candela?"

Blanche frowned at her, and she realized a tear had slipped down her cheek. She rushed to wipe it away with her fingers.

"This smoke is _killing_ my eyes," she said, and it wasn't a total lie.

Blanche's frown deepened. "It's stinging my eyes a bit, too. I was worried you might be thinking of Jou-"

"Candela! Blanche! Get out here!" Spark shouted, saving Candela from hearing the rest of Blanche's sentence.

Though Candela usually avoided dancing unless she'd had a drink first, she jumped up immediately to join him to avoid responding to Blanche. As she approached Spark, a few kids ran to surround her and pull her into the group, gripping her fingers in their small hands. Children weren't usually her thing. Showing them the ropes of becoming a pokémon trainer was one thing, but dancing and playing with them? She always bumbled through that kind of stuff. Candela watched Spark for cues and attempted to relax her rigid body as the kids tried to teach her their dances.

"Blanche, don't be a party pooper!" Spark called to the Mystic leader, who hadn't budged from their seat. "Even Candela's getting her groove on!"

"I'd rather not," said Blanche.

"Don't make me do something you'll regret," Spark warned puckishly.

Blanche ignored him and busied themself with their study of the food.

Spark clucked his tongue. "You've forced my hand. Get 'em, guys."

He bent low and pointed at Blanche, and the kids instantly gathered his meaning. A giddy pack of children dispatched to collect Blanche, who looked up in alarm as they closed in on them. They shook their head vigorously, repeating that word they'd used before, _raka._ If the children understood that they were saying "no," they showed no signs of acknowledgment. The kids swept Blanche from their seat, pushing them to the dancefloor, entertained by Blanche's stiff demeanor and halfhearted attempts to escape back to the table.

"Let them teach you," Spark suggested to Blanche, who clearly didn't know what to do with themself now that they were trapped within a ring of children. "You'll be learning a dance that no one outside of this mountain has ever seen."

Blanche considered Spark's words for a while, then allowed their muscles to unknot. Seeing the change in their posture, a gap-toothed young girl took Blanche's hands and swayed them gently back and forth. Candela thought she saw a flicker of a smile, but it could have also been a nervous twitch.

"I've never seen you dance before, Blanche," Candela said as the gap-toothed girl picked up the pace and introduced some new elements.

"And you never will again," Blanche stated, awkwardly imitating the girl's motions.

"Aw, come on," Spark purred, rocking his shoulder against Blanche's to encourage them to sway. "You're starting to have a little fun. You're feeling the funk."

"I am not feeling the-" Blanche couldn't bring themself to repeat the full phrase. "I am trying to learn something about a culture that has evolved in isolation. If that requires some… aerobic exercise… then so be it."

Spark quirked his brow at Candela and, despite knowing he was about to do something even more embarrassing, she nodded her support. He sashayed closer to Blanche and tapped the little girl on the shoulder. She grinned up at him and allowed him to switch places with her, standing in front of Blanche, holding their hands.

Blanche's cheeks reddened and they fixed Spark with a stern look. "What are you doing?"

"I think we should teach them some of _our_ moves, too," Spark said.

Candela motioned for the kids to clear some room for the two of them, and the children crowded around her, curious eyes sparkling in the firelight. Spark guided Blanche's hand to a perch on his shoulder, then placed his hand on their waist. Not allowing Blanche a chance to object, he led the dance, sweeping them with him in a fast-paced yet fluid waltz. Blanche's fingers tightened on his shoulder as they were pulled along in swift circles. Somehow, Spark managed to use the prosthetic on his ankle to his advantage, making smooth turns on the rockers, keeping his weight primarily on his good leg. For once in their life, Blanche seemed klutzy by comparison. Candela longed for her communicator, wishing she could be recording this moment of beautiful absurdity.

Blanche yelped as Spark dipped them unexpectedly, their long hair brushing across the ground. They hauled themself upright again amid raucous laughter from the children and Candela. After shooting a steely glance at Candela, Blanche grabbed Spark's hands and switched their positions. Now, his hand was on their shoulder, and Blanche could guide him with their hand on his waist.

"What's this? You complain about dancing, and now you want to lead?" Spark asked.

"I merely think the one in the dress should take the feminine position," Blanche said with the faintest hint of a smirk, referring to Spark's native couture. "For the accuracy of the aesthetic."

Spark fluffed the skirt of his robe. "Fair enough."

Candela gasped at how quickly Blanche took command. They transformed the dance from waltz to swing, spinning Spark out to the side and pulling him back like a yoyo. Spark reeled dizzily for a second but rebounded quickly, matching Blanche's competitive ferocity. He echoed their steps and changes in direction so instantaneously that he seemed to be reading their mind. The two spun and dipped and pressed close again, Spark only slightly hindered by his new hardware, Blanche barely making allowances for it. The dance had turned into a contest, not unlike the pokémon battles the leaders occasionally engaged in on slow days at the lab. The children who mobbed around Candela cheered for the dancers, and she couldn't help but join in.

"Give us a twirl!" she shouted.

Spark, being the taller of the two, took the initiative and lifted Blanche's hand so they could spin, their ponytail trailing the momentum of their body, sharing a striking resemblance with the puppet-Articuno's tail. The kids paired off around Candela, choosing partners to spin, then swapping places. The tiniest child among them, a round-faced girl with wild hair, stood alone, the last pick. Candela offered her hand, and the girl gleefully took it and allowed Candela to spin her.

Spark and Blanche's dance continued, ever sharper, pulling apart and rejoining, their faces coming so close their eyelashes might have brushed each other. All around them, a sea of dancing youths mimicked them, hopping out of the way when they spun close, filling in the gaps they left behind. Older dancers joined in, craning to see their new tutors, stepping on each other's feet, doubling over in hilarity.

But as Spark turned to barrel roll with Blanche, something in him changed. He froze up, tripping over his feet, no longer the graceful figure on the dancefloor. His smile shattered as his eyes focused on something in the crowd. Blanche didn't catch the change as quickly as Candela did, and they tried to pull him back into the rhythm, which threw them both off balance. They tumbled to the ground, which raised another round of laughter from the crowd, as if this was all part of their performance.

Blanche sprang back up immediately, brushing themself off before offering a hand to Spark. They were both flushed and panting, and though Spark flashed Blanche an apologetic grin, something wasn't right about it. He stood slowly, his eyes flicking toward the spot he'd been staring at in the crowd.

"I take it you've had enough?" Blanche taunted in their signature deadpan.

Spark shook his head as if to clear it. "I… uh…"

Candela waded through the youngsters, scanning the area where Spark kept looking but not finding anything out of place. Just more pale people, dancing, merrily oblivious. "Spark, what happened? What did you see? And if you say 'nothing,' I swear I'll knock you senseless."

"You already know," Spark said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Blanche finally caught up. "You mean you saw her again?"

As was her habit, Waik appeared from nowhere again and dropped Blanche's duffel at their feet. She passed a skeptical glance over the trio, as if she suspected they were up to something.

"Thank you," Blanche said, bowing their head in gratitude. They lifted the bag's strap to their shoulder.

Waik nodded, accepting the sentiment despite the language gap. Then she waved for the three of them to follow her, a gesture Candela was already growing weary of. There was still food at the table calling her name, but if Waik wanted them to go, then what choice did they have?

"We'll discuss this later," Blanche said quietly, and the three leaders followed Waik away from the fire as the birds passed over their heads one last time.

§

 **AN:** My dudes, so much has been happening and continues to happen. My newest time constraint comes in the form of a grad course I'm taking to get my Certified Financial Planner designation so I can be more useful at my job in a wealth management office, where I currently only have insurance licensure. That's an extra 10 hours of time a week devoted to studying, on top of holiday preparations, taking care of the puppies (who are NOT into the snow that just fell here, and have just recovered from a stomach bug), wrapping up wedding thank you notes, and maybe squeezing in a little time with my wife and our roommate. I'll make it work, but updates are still gonna be a little slow for a while. I appreciate your patience! I swear I'll make it pay off! After all, I'm gonna be a financial planner! Haha, get it? Pay off? Ugh. I know. I'm sorry.


	26. Chapter 26

Spark didn't like that they'd been assigned to separate bedchambers. He also didn't like that he didn't speak the language required to express his dislike. He could tell that neither Blanche nor Candela were enthused by the setup either, but they'd allowed themselves to be ushered into their private rooms. Words of protest had formed on Candela's lips, but a look from Blanche had silenced her. They were Waik's guests. If this was what Waik wanted, it was not their place to argue over it.

Not that they'd had the energy to argue. To tell the truth, Spark was ready to collapse into bed for about a century, even though he'd gotten the most sleep out of the trio in the past 48 hours. Sleep deprivation had weighed heavily on his friends. He could see it in Candela's slowed-down motions, her eyes that blinked just a little too sluggishly. Blanche's exhaustion had taken the form of dark circles under their eyes. They needed rest, and maybe they'd sleep easier in their own private spaces.

Spark's chamber was small and plain, another domed bubble of a room in a hallway of rooms he supposed looked about the same. The building must have been an inn of some kind. After all, Blanche had said there were other villages in the mountain. Travelers would need a place to stay when they were away from home.

Spark knelt next to the wide, soft bed. It was composed of the same dark material that the first bed and his robe were made of and smelled faintly of a mossy forest floor. He wondered if he'd see her in his dreams.

He groaned and stood up again. He couldn't go to sleep with that thought looming over him. How he wished Blanche had given him his pokémon from the duffel before they'd split up. He understood their thinking: the less exposure these people had to the pokémon, the better. But Spark would have given anything to have Rutabaga with him in his tiny room. He wanted to tell her what was going on. Just how much could the pokémon hear from inside their balls? Were they afraid right now? It bothered Spark that he couldn't comfort them.

A metal table sat against one curved wall, and on it was a green glass pitcher filled with water and a matching cup. Spark turned the little glass cup in his hand, admiring the fine glass in the low lamplight. It had an elegant yet practical simplicity, like so much of the rest of the village. Who had blown this glass? Could they have ever imagined an outsider like him would drink from it?

Spark poured water into the cup and sipped. It was sweeter than he'd expected, and deliciously cool. Maybe he could just focus on relaxing, push the memory of seeing Dillinger's face in the crowd from his mind. It had been a brief encounter, after all. She'd appeared among Waik's people, her black hair a sharp contrast to their pale coloration. She'd smiled at him with that hungry, venomous mouth of hers. He felt like his chest had been pierced by ice. This wasn't like the Dillinger he'd mistaken Candela for. This Dillinger stared at him with knowing intent.

It had felt so, so real, and then it was over. She was gone, and Spark was on the ground with Blanche, and the moment had passed. Seeing her again had been alarming, sure, but that hadn't been the worst part. If Spark had had another incident, then the others were probably due for one as well. Not only that, but Spark couldn't help but think of what this said about his mental state. He was deteriorating, maybe faster than the others, and time was working against him.

As he set the glass down, a metallic gleam caught his attention. A plain hand mirror sat behind the pitcher. Spark picked it up and cringed at the hollow, scarred face that looked back at him from the small oval of reflective metal. His fingers traced the welt from Resolute's whip down his cheek, and he took a bit of comfort to note its reduced size. He gazed into his own eyes for a while, but felt like he was looking at a stranger. An unsettling thought rose to the surface of his mind.

"Zapdos, if you're in there…"

He paused, feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable. Was he really going to chat up the legendary pokémon that had taken up residence in his skull? Would it even work? He glanced at the empty bed. Anything to delay sleep and the nightmares it promised.

"Listen, Zapdos. I know you don't want to be in here. 'Here' being both this mountain and, uh, _me._ I'm going to do everything I can to get you out, but I need you to work with me. In order to get us out of here, I need to keep it together, you know? I have to be able to trust my eyes. Do you understand?"

Predictably, nothing happened. Spark searched his reflection, but found no evidence that Zapdos could hear or acknowledge him.

"I really _am_ going mad," he muttered, then addressed the bird once more. "I realize you might not be able to help, but on the off chance you can… Please don't let me let my friends down."

He wasn't sure if he was talking more to Zapdos or himself, but Spark decided that he'd wasted enough time monologuing into a mirror either way. He set it face down on the table, turned down the lamp, unstrapped the prosthetic from his ankle, and headed for bed.

As he curled between the sheets, he wished he had a psychic pokémon with him to guard him from bad dreams. The thought immediately conjured the image of Dillinger's hypno, and Spark tensed and pulled the blankets tighter around his body. How could he have forgotten Hypno? He was still out there somewhere, maybe lost, maybe back in Dillinger's hands. At least he'd had the foresight to avoid Waik's people. He was a clever pokémon, Spark reminded himself. Hypno seemed to navigate the tunnels better than his human counterparts. He could take care of himself, at least until Spark and his friends found him. Perhaps it was more likely that Hypno would find them instead. Spark could only hope.

Spark closed his eyes, but his mind wouldn't turn off. His thoughts zipped from Hypno back to Dillinger's predatory grin. How could a human being turn out like that? How had Professor Willow failed to immediately see the evil in her heart? No, he had to get his brain away from that topic. He tried to remember the dance moves he'd learned earlier that night, but that inevitably returned him to the moment of his hallucination. So he backed up his memory further, to Blanche's retelling of their exchange with Waik. They'd described Articuno huddled on the ice, suffering. Was Zapdos in pain as well? And Moltres? What was happening to them? Even if they could do something to slow the onset of the madness Blanche had described, did they even have the strength to act while trapped in human heads?

The questions buzzed incessantly through Spark's mind as he tossed and turned. The harder he tried to shut his brain down, the more active it became. The fear of not getting sufficient sleep only worsened his attempts to rest. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Fifteen minutes? An hour?

He finally found a semi-comfortable position, flat on his back, the moss-scented blankets tucked around him in a way that inhibited his wiggling. He concentrated on the silence of the room, hearing only his own breathing. The tension in his muscles melted with every exhale, and chaos in his mind began to still.

The door creaked softly, and Spark sat straight up, instantly wide awake and ready to leap into action.

"Spark! It's me, Candela," whispered the shadowed figure in the doorway.

Spark rested his hand on his chest as if he could will his heart to stop pounding. "Candela! You _do_ realize that the last time you walked in on me unexpectedly, I mistook you for our mortal enemy, right?"

"Yeah, I know. What can I say? I'm a thrill-seeker," Candela said as she closed the door behind her.

Spark sighed and patted the bed, inviting her to approach. Not that she was waiting for the invitation. Candela slipped into the bed with Spark as if it were her own, claiming a sizeable portion of the sheets for herself as she went.

Spark smirked and allowed Candela to commandeer half of the bed. "You couldn't sleep either, huh?"

"Could barely close my eyes," she said, and punctuated the sentence with a heavy sigh. "I miss Cayenne. Even though she steals all the blankets and bites my toes in the middle of the night."

Spark imagined Candela's little vulpix pouncing on her feet in the wee hours of the morning. The sweet image soured as Spark thought of Cayenne waiting in an empty bed without her trainer, alone and confused. He hoped Professor Willow was there to comfort the pokémon they'd left behind. He hoped someone was there to comfort the professor himself, for that matter. What was happening in the world above?

"We'll be back in Trichroma Town in no time now that Waik's going to show us the way," Spark said, feigning confidence.

"Yeah, with Team Rocket snapping at our heels, if we stick with your plan of luring them out of the mountain with us," Candela said.

Spark propped himself up on his elbow to look at her. "We can't leave them in here. They're a danger to everyone who lives in the caves. Besides, I thought you wanted to bring Dr. Dillinger to justice."

Even in the dark, Spark could make out the fierce determination in Candela's features as she replied. "I do. I want her and every one of her cronies to pay for what they've done."

"So we draw Team Rocket out of the mountain, seal the door behind them, and call in the authorities," Spark said. "Justice served."

Candela huffed and rolled over, her shoulders forming a sharp barrier. "You sound like Blanche. You've been spending too much time with them."

Spark detected a certain soreness in her words. "What would you rather do, then? Use our pokémon to attack Dillinger and the Rockets? Use their own methods against them? What would that make us, Candela? What would our pokémon think of being used like that?"

"They'd be gratified," Candela said.

"You really think your pokémon would be gratified to be used as murder weapons?" He knew it would sting, but he had to say it.

Candela's shoulders tightened. "I… I wouldn't kill them."

"Then what _would_ you do?"

"Damn it, Spark, I don't know," Candela said, but her voice lacked fight. "But I have to do something. Don't you understand that?"

"Of course I do," said Spark, easing up. "I just want that to be the right thing."

"And what's the right thing to do in this situation?"

Spark sank back onto his pillow. "I don't know."

Candela laughed. "Then don't put me on the spot about it."

She was quiet for a while, and Spark started to wonder if she'd fallen asleep.

"I've been thinking about it a lot, you know," Candela whispered, a bit groggily. "What I'd like to do to Dillinger. It's not good. I've also been thinking about what I did to you, or what I tried to do. I've been afraid to even think about it. I didn't know how I could ever face you again. Because I didn't see a Rocket when I looked at you, like I said I did. I… I saw…"

"You just saw me. I know," Spark said. "You're a terrible liar."

He felt the bed shift as Candela laughed silently. "Great, so you knew all along. And you're still willing to be in the same room with me."

"The same bed, no less," Spark added. "But no. I didn't know all along. I could tell you were hiding something, but I didn't know what."

"I shouldn't even be in here," Candela said solemnly. "I know it's dangerous. I just wanted a chance to talk to you without Blanche hovering over us. I already talked to them about this, and they told me to tell you the truth. I didn't want to. I _really_ didn't want to, but I've been thinking about it all night, and I knew that it would keep eating me up from the inside if I didn't do it. I was losing my mind over this, Spark, I really was. I can't reconcile how I felt in that awful moment with who I am as a person. Because it wasn't me, but at the same time it was, and I-"

Spark placed his hand on her shoulder, slowing her down, breaking the intensity of her accelerating speech. "Hey, it _wasn't_ you. You forget that I also attacked you when I thought you were Dillinger. It's the birds messing with us. I don't know if it's intentional, or a side effect of sharing headspace with them, or what, but you can't blame yourself for what happened, or what might happen. I'm scared, too. I want to be able to trust myself again."

"So do I," Candela said, and though she turned her head to mask the sound, Spark heard her sniffle. "My mind feels like it's being pulled in a million directions at once. I don't even feel better for telling you the truth, because I know it's not easy for you either. I don't know how you aren't falling apart right now, because I feel like I am."

"Don't worry," Spark said. "At this point, I'm pretty practiced at falling apart. But it's OK. You said you'd always have my back, and I trust that. I've got yours, too."

"But I could turn on you at any moment. You _can't_ trust me," Candela said, half into her pillow.

"I can trust that I'll sense a change in you, like I did at the waterfall, and manage to get out of your way now that I know what's going on," Spark reasoned.

Candela digested that for a few seconds, and then started to sit up. "I shouldn't be here. It's a stupid risk."

"Wait, don't go," Spark said, reaching for her before she could get out of the bed.

She looked at him with wet, remorseful eyes. She didn't want to go, "stupid risk" or not.

"Just a few more minutes," she agreed, settling back down.

"Do you remember camping out when we were kids?" Spark asked.

Candela picked up on his thought. "Yeah, I remember. You and me and Blanche and our tiny toy tent, making plans to sneak out on school nights."

" _You_ made those plans. Blanche and I were star-struck tagalongs who thought you were the ultimate rebel."

"I remember that night when Blanche got scared and you walked them home without telling me," Candela said.

"That was one of the first times Blanche came along, wasn't it?" said Spark, even though he knew it was.

"Yeah, and they were certain we were going to get in trouble. Which I guess is why they wanted to go home," Candela said. "But you didn't wake me up before you walked them back. I remember opening my eyes and seeing empty sleeping bags next to me, and I was suddenly terrified. I didn't know if you'd gone home or gotten lost or attacked by a wild pokémon… I started panicking. Which wasn't like me, and I think that freaked me out even more, and made it worse."

Spark waited quietly for her to continue. Candela's words were turning slow and slippery as she started to drift off a little.

"You were there, and then you were gone. I hated that, how easy it was for people to be there, right next to you, and then be gone somewhere I couldn't follow. I felt profoundly alone. And then you were back, and I was crying outside of the tent, and I had never been so embarrassed. I probably hit you or something, because I was such a little jerk. I didn't want you to think I was scared. Or that I was jealous. Because I was."

"Of what?" Spark asked. This was a detail he hadn't heard before. He recalled the night clearly in his mind. To him, it was memorable because it was one of the few times he'd seen Candela – strong, brave, shooting star Candela – truly distraught. He'd been shocked to see his idol trembling in the dirt, her eyes glassy with tears and brimming with fear. He knew she'd cried over Joule, he'd seen her tear-chapped cheeks, her hollow look when she returned to school. But he hadn't seen it firsthand. Candela had merely vanished for a while, become a ghost of herself.

"Of you and Blanche," Candela said. She spoke as if talking in her sleep, but she had to be awake. "You and me, we were best friends since forever. But then this new kid came along, and it became the three of us, always. I felt like I'd lost something. Like I was alone. And I kept on feeling alone for a long time."

She fell silent again, but Spark wasn't ready to let her sleep. "Do you still feel like that?"

"Sometimes," Candela murmured.

It was like scales had fallen from Spark's eyes as his memories filled in with this new information. He'd always viewed Candela as independent, often choosing to work solo, occasionally being standoffish, especially with Blanche. He saw her ambition, her strong sense of self, the way she drove herself to be the best, even if that required long, isolated hours in the lab. Somehow, all this time, he had lost or ignored this factor, this dark smoke that enshrouded Candela.

How could he have missed her loneliness?

"You aren't alone, Candy," Spark said, hoping she was awake enough to hear him.

Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her breathing steady. Spark shook her shoulder gently, and she grumbled, but didn't wake. She needed sleep, he knew that, but he wanted to tell her that he was there, that he'd always be there. That he was terrified of being alone, too, and jealous of the apparent confidence Candela and Blanche shared.

But Candela was deeply asleep, and liable to slug him in the jaw if he dared disturb her slumber. Spark tucked the blankets over her shoulder and lay on his back alongside her, again reminded of their youthful days crammed into a tiny tent out in the woods near town. He felt a growing guilt weighing on his chest. She was right. Ever since Blanche came along, Spark and Candela's friendship became intrinsic to their little trio. The special bond they'd shared had changed to accommodate the newcomer. While that new bond was strong between the three of them, Spark now recognized that the subtle shift had long-lasting, well-guarded repercussions that not even his insightful mind could reveal.

There had been clues, now that Spark was looking back. Even recent ones, like when she'd gotten upset over the tradition he and Blanche shared of watching bad movies together. He revisited the memory of arguing with Candela about it, that time she'd deliriously insisted on un-cancelling Starter Day when the entire lab was sick with a terrible cold. Sure, Spark had picked up on a note of jealousy there, but thought it was a recent thing, related to the extra time he and Blanche had spent together after his injury. But he also thought she was acting childishly due to her fever.

Had he managed to miss years and years of escalating loneliness? Suddenly, every memory of Candela was colored by it. The flinty look in her eyes when Spark challenged Blanche to a battle instead of her on slow days at work. The nervous lip-chewing when Blanche mentioned something they and Spark had done together when Candela was out of town.

It wasn't like she and Blanche weren't close, though. They collaborated on research, he'd overhead them talking late into the night about their findings, laughing over stories that Spark wasn't a part of, Candela coaxing Blanche into sharing a bottle of wine. They exchanged books with each other, and held playful (yet somehow incredibly intense) cooking competitions. Hell, they even flirted, though neither took it seriously. Candela would tease Blanche, trying to break their concentration, until Blanche would finally snap at her, a hint of a smile on their lips, their precisely-chosen insults missing the sharp edge of authenticity.

It had taken a while for them to get to that level of friendship, Spark realized. While he and Blanche had taken naturally to each other, it had been more gradual for Candela. Which made sense. In many ways, they were opposites, each grating against the personality of the other.

Candela's snoring startled Spark from his reflection. It was about time that he got some sleep, too. He moved a little closer, taking advantage of Candela's body heat, and matched his breathing to hers. If he sensed her breathing change, he'd be ready to jolt awake and get out of the way, though he hoped Candela wasn't going to turn murderous in the middle of the night. He pretended they were in their little tent, safe from all danger and fear, and soon fell into a tense and dreamless sleep.

§

 **AN:** Boy howdy, it continues to be hectic as sin! But I did want to get something to you before Christmas. So, here's some "Candela is still sick of being sidelined by Spark X Blanche angst and just needs a vulpix to cuddle, some chocolate, and a jacuzzi full of champagne!" for your consideration. Happy holidays! May your days be merry and bright!


	27. Chapter 27

When Blanche opened the door to Candela's room in the morning (or what Waik had deemed to be morning, considering the lack of sun), they were surprised to find it empty. Their gut twisted as they imagined every violent scenario that could account for her absence. Had she snapped again? Gone rampaging? Perhaps she had simply snuck out like an insolent teenager to snoop about town. Whatever the case, Blanche hurried down the hall toward Spark's room. At least _he_ could be counted on not to disappear at random. Or so they hoped.

They began speaking before they'd opened the door all the way. "Spark, get up. Candela isn't in her room, and Waik seems to want-"

Blanche froze as they found both Spark and Candela sharing the single bed in the room. Their mouth gaped like a magikarp's as they puzzled through the blizzard of thoughts and emotions that bombarded them. Foremost in their mind was the cold sensation of solitude, a callback to that first awkward year of becoming Spark and Candela's friend. They'd been an outsider, and though that feeling had faded with time, it leaped back to life in this moment as Blanche lingered in the doorway and stared at their sleeping friends.

They gripped the arched doorframe to anchor themself and focused on the reality of the scene. Candela must have needed some private time to connect with Spark again, perhaps even discuss why she'd attacked him at the falls. They'd probably stayed together overnight to comfort each other in this strange environment. Yes, Blanche would have liked to be included, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a big deal. So why did they feel so overwhelmed by emotion?

Articuno. It had to be Articuno behind this overreaction. Like Dillinger had said, the birds had bonded to them with the help of powerful emotions. Therefore, it was reasonable to assume sharing a head with them could result in some… mood swings. Especially with tensions as high as they already were. After all, it wasn't just a matter of Blanche feeling left out. What if Candela had lost control again? What if Spark had mistaken Candela for an enemy? Had neither of them thought of that? Worse: had they known the risk, but subjected each other to it anyway?

Blanche breathed deeply, recognizing the rise of irrational anger. This had to be Articuno's doing. They had to push through and keep their composure.

"Spark, Candela. Wake up," Blanche said, striding into the room.

The two sleepers startled awake and blinked blearily at them.

"What? It's still dark," Candela said around a yawn.

"That does tend to be the case this deep inside a mountain," Blanche quipped.

Candela sat up and stretched her muscular arms above her head. "Oh, right. We're still reenacting _Journey to the Center of the Earth_ up in here."

Blanche cocked their head. "You've read Jules Verne?"

"Don't act so surprised," Candela said. She twisted to see Spark, who had closed his eyes again, and flicked his ear playfully. "Upsy-daisy, Sleeping Beauty."

Spark covered both of his ears and rolled away. "Not until my prince comes."

"Stop playing around. Waik is waiting for us," Blanche said sternly.

They noticed the glance shared between Candela and Spark. They hated when they did that. The two of them may as well have been speaking another language that Blanche couldn't quite decipher. Blanche bit their lip. Hate was a strong word. Their emotions were still getting the better of them.

"What's she waiting on us for?" Candela asked, crossing the room to pour some water for herself.

"I'm not sure," said Blanche. "She woke me and pointed out a meeting place, but I'm afraid she couldn't communicate any more than that. The matter seemed fairly urgent."

"Isn't everything these days," Candela muttered before taking a drink.

Spark strapped the brace to his ankle as he spoke. "Candela and I had a little trouble falling asleep last night, hence the sleepover. Did you sleep OK?"

"I did," Blanche said, a bit too quickly. They tried to hide their snappy reply by pressing on. "There's no time to dawdle. Let's get moving."

§

Waik waited for them in the same circular room in which she'd psychically conversed with Blanche. This time, however, she sat in the center of the room and was flanked by two austere attendants, both sitting like she was, each with a hand on Waik's shoulder. Waik's expression was somber and unreadable, but her disquietingly blue eyes acted as magnets, drawing Blanche's attention to her.

Waik gestured for the trio to sit. Blanche took the lead, positioning themself opposite of Waik, as they'd done before. Candela and Spark sat where Waik pointed, on either side of Blanche, so that the four of them formed a small circle with Waik's attendants branching off the outside, not quite included.

Satisfied with the positioning, Waik took Candela's hand and then Spark's, then nodded to Blanche to complete the ring. They did, offering a reassuring squeeze to both of their friends, who sat rigidly. They wondered what the other two were thinking. It wasn't like either of them to be so quiet. Were they nervous? Afraid?

Waik closed her eyes, and Candela and Sparked glanced to Blanche for guidance. They nodded subtly and lowered their head, assuming their friends would follow suit. Blanche breathed just loudly enough for the others to hear them, hoping they'd catch on and match pace.

In.

Out.

In.

The sensation came more quickly this time. A chill on their cheek, the hazy outline of snow-dusted trees.

Out.

In.

Blanche stood in the snowy field, but something was off about it. The world was hazier than it had been before, and snow was falling. Not gentle, feathery flakes this time, no. They were tiny ice crystals that pricked Blanche's skin.

"You're really getting the hang of this, Blanche."

Waik appeared a few yards away, again wearing Spark's orange coat. She grinned at Blanche, but they could read the weariness in her posture, in the lines that traced her eyes.

Waik rocked on her heels, like an impatient child. "I'm trying to give your friends a boost, but they're a little resistant. Ah, here we go…"

Her shadow expanded away from her feet. No, not a shadow. A slice of a completely different place, flowing away from Waik in a V, filling in with details that didn't belong in Blanche's snowy realm at all. Instead of ice, the ground became concrete. Steel pipes and rods replaced the trees, and the bright, gray sky turned navy and speckled by stars.

It was a power plant, Blanche realized. They felt like they were looking into a massive, industrial-themed terrarium that had been dropped into the arctic, and inside that strange and magical nightscape stood a slack-jawed Spark. He turned his head slowly, as if something might jump out and attack him. He jolted when he saw Blanche.

"Blanche! Why are you out in the snow?" he asked.

Waik laughed at the question, and Spark's attention jumped to her.

"And that's my coat!" he exclaimed. "Oh man, this is a new level of surreal. My poor brain can't take this."

"This is the _least_ of your brain's concerns," said Waik, unhelpfully. "And now, Candela…"

Another shadow stretched from Waik's feet, and a new wedge of world appeared. Soft, summer grass overtook Blanche's snow and wildflowers knocked their heads together in the breeze. A vibrant sun beamed from the blue sky, briefly blinding Blanche as they made the mistake of looking into it. Candela stood in the middle of the new plain, her arms spread to catch the sunlight, her smile a bit manic.

"This is insane," she stated, her voice trembling slightly.

"Finally," Waik sighed.

She stood at the point where the three worlds collided. Each wedge appeared equal, expanding eternally to their respective horizons. As Waik shifted, the lighting of each third struck her differently. A slice of shadow from Spark's nighttime power plant, the brilliant glow from Candela's sun, the muted colors of Blanche's blizzard.

"We don't have much time to talk, so I'm afraid we'll have to skip past your phase of breathless wonderment. I'm burning energy fast to pull this off, even with the help of my strongest minds," Waik said. "I had my historians look for information on the gate, and I have some bad news."

"How bad is bad?" Spark asked.

" _Bad_ bad," Waik replied. "You-aren't-getting-out-of-here-alive bad."

Blanche bristled. "What do you mean?"

Waik grimaced a little. Was her time really that short here? "It's possible that opening the door from the inside requires a sacrifice. _Your_ sacrifice, to be exact. I guess that's how the ancients intended to prevent history from repeating itself."

Candela's half-crazed smile had vanished. "That sort of seems like something you should have told Blanche the first time around."

"I didn't know. As far as I knew, this was all ancient mythology and half-truths. All of our ceremonies about being released from the mountain don't go into the gory details. Most of us never expected this day to actually come," Waik explained. "In fact, after having lived so long underground, I doubt we could acclimate to life on the outside."

Blanche's mind raced. "But we can't stay here. We'll go mad."

"Maybe we can stave it off until we can find another way out," Candela suggested.

Waik shook her head. "In centuries of living down here, my people have never found another way. If you think you can delay the onset of madness, then more power to you. But I doubt you can hold out forever. Take a look at your horizon, Candela."

A small smudge of smoke tarnished the edge of the field in which Candela stood. It rose in an ominous pillar, staining the sky.

Despite the apparent heat in Candela's wedge of territory, a shudder ran through her, visible even from where Blanche stood. "Is… is that…?"

"Fire," Waik said, her eyebrows drawn in sympathy. "The more it spreads, the more of your sanity it consumes. We've seen similar symptoms in patients with mental illnesses, and have been able to successfully treat them. However, I fear that even with my ability to enter your heads, I can't heal you faster than the birds can harm you."

"Then what are we supposed to do? We're damned if we stay, and we're damned if we go," Candela said.

Spark, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. He looked calmer and more collected than Blanche had anticipated, standing firm and straight, his jaw squared. "Waik, we'll still open the gate."

Blanche furrowed their brow, irritated with him for giving up so easily. "Spark, we should think this through and come up with another plan. There must be an alternative."

Spark knocked the back of his hand against one of the pipes in his power plant, as if inspecting it for structural soundness. He continued tapping on different valves and rods as he went on. "We don't have time for another plan. At least, not while we're staying under Waik's roof."

As he said it, the steel, barrel-like piece of machinery he'd touched last rocked backwards with a groan of weak metal and a crackle of electrical discharge. He jumped back as the machinery collapsed, denting the row of pipes behind it as it fell.

"Just the kind of shoddy workmanship I'd expect up here," Spark joked, tapping his forehead. "Like I was saying, we don't have time. We need to get away from Waik's people before we completely lose it."

Waik flinched. "I'm sure we could contain you if it came down to that…"

Spark cautiously sidestepped the sparking piece of crumpled equipment and approached Waik. He wore the face he usually reserved for addressing frightened and badly injured pokémon. It was gentle and mildly apologetic, and it filled Blanche with nervous energy. "You're a good leader, Waik. You want to protect your people not only from what we might do but from seeing us fall apart. You don't want them to lose hope. It would be best for all of you if we left as soon as possible. It would have been easy to send us on our way to the gate without telling us about the sacrifice, but you're too kind for that. You wanted us to know the truth, even if that meant we might decide to stay and put your people at risk."

Waik tightened up, like she might protest, or maybe even strike Spark if he got too close. But then the tension drained from her body and she lowered her head. "It's true that I'm concerned for my people, but I'm also concerned for you. I don't want to send you to your deaths."

"It sounds like we're dead either way," Candela said with a wry smirk. "It's not your fault. But if you have any advice for us, we're all ears."

Waik perked back up, but Blanche detected a tremor in her hands. "There's a chance that we're misinterpreting old tablets and reliefs, or that the threat of death was merely meant to warn people off of trying to escape. So much of the truth has been lost to time and myth."

"See? A glimmer of hope!" Spark said, and Waik smiled at him. Blanche couldn't tell if the expression was one of cheer or pity. "We'll open the door and get Team Rocket out of here, I promise."

Waik tilted her head, looking more tired by the minute. "Team Rocket? Blanche, weren't you trying to say something about this before?"

"Team Rocket is the organization that forced us to open the door into the mountain. They're dangerous people, and they have many more pokémon than we do," Blanche said.

"Fortunately, they don't want to be trapped here either, so we should be able to lead them out," Spark added. "We even have a half-baked idea of how to do it."

A violent shriek cut the air, and Blanche reflexively covered their ears. From seemingly nowhere, Moltres soared into view over Candela's field, the beating of its wings scattering the wildflowers below it and sending up a spray of petals. Candela leaped out of the way as the legendary bird landed hard, its talons striking the soil heavily enough that Blanche felt the vibrations through their snow. Moltres screeched at Waik, causing her to stumble into Spark's territory in alarm. Spark caught her as she tripped over her heel and swung her behind his body, standing as a shield in front of her.

But Moltres didn't attack. Blanche hoped Spark had sensed it wouldn't. What would happen if they were attacked inside their own heads? Was it even possible?

Moltres clacked its long beak in annoyance and settled onto the ground, the grass and flowers around it wilting from the heat. Candela crouched low, ready to dodge if the bird lunged for her. She spoke to Waik over her shoulder, unwilling to turn away from the giant, seething pokémon.

"OK, what the _hell_ is going on in here?"

Waik regained herself and stepped past Spark, returning to the central point. "We've drawn Moltres' attention somehow. I presume the birds have had a negative experience with Team Rocket?"

Moltres shrieked again, its fiery plumage flaring in anger. Candela took a step back, holding her arms up to block some of the heat from hitting her face.

"Yeah, you could say that," Candela snapped.

Moltres turned toward her, and she ducked, as if anticipating a blow. Instead, the great bird dropped its head and, extending its long neck, nudged her with its beak. Candela's hands drifted over the beak, torn between shoving it away and stroking it.

"What's going on?" Blanche asked.

"We're bonded to the birds," Spark said.

As simple as the answer was, Blanche couldn't argue with it. Moltres nuzzled against Candela like any other pokémon seeking attention from its trainer. Candela gingerly placed her hands on Moltres' beak and giggled nervously.

"It's warm," she said. "I can't believe this is happening…"

Thunder rumbled from Spark's zone, and Zapdos flashed down from the sky like lightning, landing much like Moltres had, shaking the earth. It shuffled its sparking feathers, making itself at home, while Spark regained his balance from the quake. Zapdos moved in a sharper, jerkier fashion than Moltres, cocking its head back and forth, taking in the scene. Once it found Spark, it thrusted its head into his chest, nearly knocking him off his feet. Spark caught the legendary pokémon's beak for stability.

"Whoa there, big guy!" Spark said, tentatively ruffling the feathers on Zapdos' crown. He frowned and looked to Blanche. "It's trembling…"

A bitter wind cut through Blanche's world. Articuno emerged from the developing snowstorm, but it didn't land with the force the others did. Blanche covered their mouth as the once graceful, majestic ice pokémon crash-landed into the snow, skidding across the ice, its wings flapping desperately to right itself. As it came to a stop, the wings sagged, and Articuno lay still.

Blanche froze, their blood chilled.

"Blanche! Go to it!" Spark called.

They staggered forward, then ran toward the fallen bird. They fell to their knees by its head and place their hand on its neck, feeling for its vitals. The heartbeat was quick and weak. The bird watched Blanche with a foggy, narrowly opened eye. It was even weaker than it had been on the ice on Blanche's first trip inside their mind.

"Waik, what do we do? What's happening to Articuno?" Candela asked.

"The birds aren't meant to be in this mountain, and it's a miracle they've found a way to exist here," Waik said. Her voice hitched. Her time was limited, but she fought through. "But it's costing them, each in their own way."

Blanche kept their hands on Articuno's neck, as if they could transfer health to the ailing pokémon. "But it seems in so much worse of a condition than Moltres or Zapdos."

"As I said, they're each affected differently," Waik said with a degree of impatience. "But its health does worry me. It's reasonable to assume that the state of the birds relates to the state of your psyches."

Blanche stroked Articuno's feathers. They felt how clouds looked: soft and ethereal and cold. Blanche's heart sat heavily in their chest. Despite what Waik had said, Articuno truly looked to be in the worst shape. What did that say about Blanche? Was that why their emotions had been so unruly? How much longer could they and Articuno hold out?

"Listen, everyone. We're on a tight schedule," Waik said. "If you're going to try to open the door, I will have one of my advisors lead you to a path that will take you there. I've prepared some supplies for you. We'll have to depart as soon as we're done here. I can't let my citizens see you go."

"You're not going to tell them that we're opening the door?" Spark asked. Zapdos leaned into him, its eyes closing. The weight of the bird pushed Spark back, but he still tried to hold up its spiky head. It didn't look as sickly as Articuno did, but the longer Blanche watched it, the more obvious its own suffering became. Moltres was much the same, its sides heaving and eyelids fluttering. It reminded Blanche of Candela when she was sick, trying to power through, hiding the symptoms.

"We don't belong in the world above. This is all we've ever known, and we're happy here, even with the Lost," Waik said. "Besides, if legend is to be believed, it may not be our time to return. You were forced to enter the mountain, after all."

Spark said nothing. Perhaps he wanted to protest, or perhaps he begrudgingly understood. Blanche certainly followed Waik's reasoning. These people had lived without sunlight or pokémon or modern language for centuries. Down here, their culture was protected. Where would they fit in the world above?

"What will you tell your people?" Blanche asked.

"I have something in mind, don't worry," Waik said, smiling feebly.

Candela let go of Moltres' beak. "You said one of your advisors would lead us. Why not you?"

"Creating and maintaining this space takes an enormous toll on me. Even with my assistants lending their energy, I will be too weak to be of any help. I'll likely enter a deep sleep for several days. After all that's happened in the past day, that actually sounds like a welcome vacation," Waik joked.

"So… this is goodbye, then," Spark said.

Waik nodded. Her body looked like it was being pulled to the ground by a thousand invisible wires, but she stayed on her feet. "It is. There is so much I would like to ask the three of you. I wish you could stay here with us, so we could share each other's culture and stories. But it wasn't meant to be."

She coughed violently, nearly losing her footing.

"Waik!" Spark lowered Zapdos' head to the ground and started toward Waik, but she held up her hand, warning him back.

"It's fine," she croaked.

"Waik, you told us what we need to know. You don't have to keep this up," Candela said. Behind her, Moltres' breathed heavily, its fire dying down. The smoke pillar on the horizon had darkened and crept higher in the sky.

"I have a few final words to impart," Waik insisted, straightening herself up as much as she could. "Among your supplies, I've included a potent mix of the same solution I gave Spark before. It may come in handy as a fast-acting sedative."

This last part she said to Candela, who pressed her lips together firmly and nodded her understanding.

"My advisor can only take you to the trailhead. The path is a clear one from there, and I can't risk people asking questions about where he's gone, so he can't be with you for long," Waik continued. "The portal should look like the one you saw on your way in, and should activate in much the same way. You'll find it at the top of a path that curves up the inside of what was once a magma chamber. It's impossible to miss. The trail there is long and steep, and you must exercise extreme caution. Luckily, the Lost don't venture there often, so you won't have many of them to worry about."

"Great," Candela said, unenthusiastically.

Waik chuckled faintly at her sarcasm. "That's all the advice I can share with you. I truly hope I have prepared you sufficiently for this task."

"Thank you, Waik," Spark said, bowing politely.

Blanche and Candela repeated the thanks as Waik sagged to the ground.

"Goodbye, travelers," Waik said. "May we meet again in a better world."

She faded like a dream, followed by Candela and her wedge of land, and then Spark and his. Blanche waited like they had before to come back to the real world, but something wasn't right. The sharp snow continued to pelt them, and while the other birds were gone, Articuno remained.

"Hello?" Blanche said, but the snow ate the sound of their voice. Had they even spoken? What was taking so long?

They heard the trickle of water before they felt it. Frigid water pooled around their feet, soaking through their shoes and chilling them to the bone. They reflexively tried to step away from the puddle, and the ground cracked beneath them.

Not ground. Ice. They'd been standing on ice the entire time. Their heart skipped a beat. Blanche knew what was coming, and though they reached for Articuno, desperate for something to hold onto, the ice gave way before they could grab on. They plunged into the breath-stealing water, sinking way too fast, the cold so intense it was more like fire on their flesh. Above them, the ice fused back together and faded from sight as they fell into the unending darkness once more.

§

 **AN:** Happy 2017! May this year not plunge you into unending darkness! I'm cheering for you!


	28. Chapter 28

Candela came out of her daze breathless yet invigorated. Seeing Moltres was both petrifying and live-giving. She felt powerful in its presence, even though she could sense a deep ache within the bird. It had so much rage inside that was barely within its control, most of that searing hatred focused on Team Rocket. Candela shared the sentiment. The two of them spoke the same language, shared the same storm of passion within their chests, overwhelming and fire-bright.

The first person Candela saw as she returned to the real world was Spark. He rubbed his eyes as if waking from a deep sleep. When he caught her staring, he offered a twitchy, crooked smile. She wondered if he felt the same way toward Zapdos.

She turned to Blanche, hoping to catch them looking disheveled so she could tease them about it and lighten the mood. Waik hadn't painted a sunny picture for them, but Candela wasn't going to let that get her down. She'd had her moment of snarky pessimism. She had to get her head back in the game now. Blanche and Spark needed that from her.

But Blanche wasn't disheveled. In fact, they looked perfectly serene, their eyes closed, lips soft and expressionless. Like they were meditating, cross-legged and distant from the world.

"I guess they're not back yet," Spark said, but he didn't sound convinced by his own words.

Candela looked to Waik for an explanation, but she and her attendants had collapsed backward, fast asleep, just as she'd predicted. Several guards approached them, murmuring to each other and gesturing at Blanche. That couldn't be a good sign.

Candela wracked her brain for an answer. Perhaps Blanche was still in the other world, but why? Candela couldn't have stayed there if she'd wanted to. It felt like she'd been tugged back to reality by an outside force. So why hadn't Blanche been pulled out with her? It was almost like they were trapped there.

And then in dawned on her.

"Spark, it's happening again," Candela said, conscious of her tone. She didn't want to raise red flags with the approaching guards.

Spark leveled a scrutinizing gaze at her, then his eyes widened as understanding set in. "They're under the ice… How do we get them out?"

"I don't know… I guess we wake them up?" Candela said.

"Is that safe?"

"Damnit, Spark, how would I know?" Candela spat. She hastily lowered her voice. "But what choice do we have? Maybe Blanche will wake up on their own like before, but we don't have time to wait. Waik has us on a tight schedule to get out of here."

Across from them, a group of people lifted Waik and her unconscious attendants and placed them into two-wheeled carts that hadn't been there before they'd entered that shared headspace. The people whispered to each other as they gently positioned the sleeping bodies into the rickshaw-like pull-carts. A tall man oversaw the operation, and Candela wondered whether he was the advisor Waik had spoken of. He eyed Blanche and snapped his fingers, signaling one of his underlings to trot out of the chamber.

"I say we try to wake them," Spark said, his eyes following the progress of the underling across the room.

Candela grasped Blanche's shoulders firmly. She shook them a little, not too quickly or forcefully, enough to rouse a normal sleeper. Blanche's head lolled with the motion, but they didn't stir.

Spark moved closer to help. He patted Blanche's face as he spoke. "Hey, Blanche. You still with us? Can you hear me?"

Blanche's eyelid twitched… or had it been Candela's imagination?

"Blanche, you aren't drowning. You are warm and dry, and you have plenty of air. Candela and I are here with you," Spark whispered close to Blanche's ear.

A low rumble of metal wheels against stone announced the arrival of another cart, pulled by the same person the advisor had sent out of the room. A familiar, raggedy duffel bag sat inside it. This one had to be meant for Blanche.

Spark must have realized the same thing. "Candela, they're not going to wait for us to wake Blanche up."

"Apparently not," Candela agreed, rising to her feet.

She stood defensively in front of Blanche as the cart approached and was pleased to see the look of intimidation on the cart-puller's face as he came near. The advisor reacted swiftly to her aggressive stance and strode toward her. Though he towered over Candela, she didn't give an inch.

The man said something to her, but of course she couldn't understand it. He pointed at Blanche, and then the cart, and made a sweeping motion with his hand, unmistakably urging them all to get a move on.

"Not until we know Blanche is OK," Candela stated, not caring about the language barrier. The man seemed to get the message anyway.

"Let's do what he wants us to," Spark said, still on the ground behind her, holding onto Blanche's shoulders so they didn't slump to the side.

"I'm not moving until Blanche comes back," Candela stated, frustrated that Spark was undermining her stand.

"We don't know when that will be. We should load them on the cart and get out of here," Spark insisted.

Candela wheeled to face him. "They're suffering right now, don't you get that? The longer we do nothing, the longer they're in pain!"

"Candela, you need to calm down."

She could feel the rage surging through her veins. "I do _not_ need to calm down. _You_ need to grow a fucking backbone and _do_ something!"

In a flash, Spark's mellow face turned sharp and stern. It was not a face she was accustomed to seeing on him, and it left her speechless long enough for him to speak again.

"You. Need. To calm. Down."

He inclined his head toward the advisor standing behind her. Candela checked on him out of the corner of her eye and finally noticed that his hand had settled on the sword at his hip. It wasn't a warning gesture. He had the posture of a man prepared to draw his blade and strike in an instant. Because of course he'd been warned by Waik to watch for signs of hostility in Candela and to react quickly if she got out of control. Because she was a ticking time bomb now. She thought of Waik turning to her, specifically her, when she talked about the sedative she was sending with them. As much as it hurt her ego to acknowledge, Spark was right. If she didn't calm down, there could be dire consequences for everyone.

Spark's eyes bore into her. "Are we on the same page now?"

Candela made a show of backing off and lowered her voice again. "Yes. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

She wasn't lying. Now that she'd pulled away from all the emotion, she saw how disproportionate it was. Of course she was worried about Blanche and about the agony they could be in. But the rage… that wasn't her rage. That was something bigger than her.

Candela and Spark lifted Blanche into the cushioned cart, and the advisor warily moved his hand from the hilt of his weapon. As soon as the three leaders were in position, he marched toward a corridor Candela hadn't previously noticed. She took up the handles of the cart and pulled. Spark limped alongside the cart, keeping watch over Blanche.

They proceeded in silence down the corridor, the carved stone transitioning gradually to the natural rock of the cave system. This had to be some kind of backdoor path, which was in line with Waik's wish to keep their travel secret.

The advisor never spoke. Not that it would matter, Candela supposed. Still, the quiet was unsettling and did little to calm her nerves. Ten minutes passed, then 15, and still not a stir from Blanche. The light from the sporadic blue crystals glowed in Blanche's white hair as they lay in the cart, still and peaceful, as if they were merely sleeping.

Ahead, the advisor stopped abruptly, and the momentum of the cart nearly pushed Candela into his back. He stoically pointed down a branch of the trail. Then, without so much as checking for acknowledgment from Candela, he turned and walked back the way they'd come.

As he faded into the dark, Candela lowered the handles of the cart to the ground, careful not to jostle Blanche as she did. "I guess that's all the guidance we get…"

Spark nodded grimly and leaned over the cart. "OK, now that we're not at risk for impalement, let's get Blanche back."

Candela ran her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit. "Right. When did you get so good with that steely gaze, by the way?"

Spark's cheeks turned rosy for a moment, and he smiled. "Like you've said before, I must be spending too much time around Blanche."

He reached into the cart and took Blanche's shoulder, preparing to shake it. But he stopped, his brows lowering and forming lines of worry across his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Candela asked.

Spark placed two fingers against Blanche's neck, just under their jaw. He looked up at Candela, his worried expression transforming to outright shock. "I can't find their pulse."

It took a moment for Candela to comprehend what he'd said. "But… but we were watching them, and they were breathing, and-"

"CPR," Spark interrupted.

Candela snapped out of it. She'd been trained for this. "Right. Get them on the ground, quickly."

Spark reached for them first, and a strange thing happened. Light flashed from his fingertips, crackling and bright, just before he could grab Blanche's shoulder and waist to pull them from the cart. Blanche's body arched up and their eyes burst open as the light struck them. Spark cried out and staggered backward, holding his hands away from his body as though they might turn on him next.

Candela stood back as Blanche sucked in a gluttonous gasp of air, only to choke on it and cough violently. As the coughing lessened, she rushed to Blanche's side, though she wasn't sure whether she should touch them. Before she could decide, Blanche reached for her, grasping for her shoulders, pulling her closer. Candela climbed into the cart with them, wrapping her arms around their shuddering body, letting Blanche cough and sputter into her chest. She reflexively stroked Blanche's hair and shushed them gently, as if she were comforting a child, though she wasn't particularly experienced in comforting children.

Really, she was comforting herself. The dark reality of the moment sank in as Blanche caught their breath in Candela's arms. Candela hadn't been able to process it in the moment, but there was no avoiding it now. One of her best friends had stood on the threshold of death and returned. Candela feared she would be crushed by the weight of the huge and unthinkable question of "What if…?"

"I'm cold," Blanche whispered, hoarsely.

Candela felt the hot tears forming in her eyes. She'd probably cried more times in this damned cave than she had ever before in her life. The thought of it was laughable. She tightened her hold on Blanche. "It's OK. I'll warm you up. Just like when we were kids, right?"

Blanche didn't reply, but their shivering gradually reduced. She wasn't sure, but Candela thought she heard muted sobs, and it made her heart feel ready to shatter.

Candela lifted her head to look for Spark while Blanche reacclimated to the land of the living. He stood a few feet away, frozen in place with his hands still raised, panting. Candela felt like she was looking at a ghost of Spark, as pale as Waik and her people, his mouth open in something between horror and agony, his pupils dilated so intensely that his irises were barely visible.

"Spark?" Candela ventured.

"Are… are they…?" He couldn't get the words out, and his voice sounded a million miles away.

"They're OK, Spark," Candela told him. "They're going to be fine. Come over here."

"I can't," Spark said. "My hands…"

Static crackled between his fingers, little arches of white electricity. He'd acted as a human defibrillator, jumpstarting Blanche's heart, and there could be only one explanation: Zapdos.

"Um, OK, hold on," Candela said, trying to gather her thoughts.

She had to diffuse the situation, but that was usually Spark's job. What would Spark do? Probably make some kind of lame joke. Candela wasn't quite up to that yet. She'd have to think of something. In the meantime, he needed to lose that electricity, before he stopped someone's heart instead of starting it.

"Try to ground it," Candela instructed. She looked around hastily from something that would fit the bill, and the only thing she found was the metal cart in which she and Blanche were lying. Fortunately, the cushions and blankets lining it would protect them. "The rickshaw. Grab the handle. We're safe where we are."

Spark gritted his teeth skeptically, but bent down and hovered his hands above the metal handle. Electricity zapped between his palms and the cart, and then dissipated. Spark held his hands before his face as if he'd never seen them before.

"Is it gone?" Candela asked.

He nodded, his whole body sagging in relief. He sank to his knees, close enough that he could reach both Candela and Blanche.

"They're OK?" Spark asked again.

"I'm f-fine," Blanche stammered, pushing away from Candela enough that they could both see their face. It was blotchy and streaked with drying tears, but for the most part, Blanche looked like themself again.

Spark's laugh bordered on manic. "You have a bizarre definition of 'fine.'"

"Were you… lost again?" Candela asked, fully aware of the vagueness of the question.

Blanche swallowed. "Yes. Drowning."

They started shaking again. Candela had never seen them like this. It felt unnatural.

"You're back now. It's going to be alright," Spark said. He reached to place his hand on their ankle, but paused for a second before making contact.

"Worried you'll zap them again?" Candela said, trying to make light of it.

Spark didn't find the humor in her jest. Judging by the look on his face, she may as well have stabbed him in the gut. She really wasn't cut out for easing tension.

"What do you mean?" Blanche asked as they tried to straighten up.

Candela jumped in so Spark could recover. "Let me get you up to speed. When you didn't wake up after the… whatever Waik's thing was… we figured you were having a, um, an episode." Was that the right word for it? Whatever, she'd already bumbled through that part. "But her advisor wanted us out of there, so we loaded you up and followed him to the trail Waik told us about. We were about to try waking you again when we realized that you had no pulse."

Blanche tensed in Candela's arms. "What?"

Candela spoke deliberately so as to keep the quaver out of her voice. "We'd been monitoring you as we walked, but we had no warning. Your heart just… stopped."

Blanche stared at her incredulously. "I… died?"

Candela winced. "Well, yes. A little bit."

"I died. A little bit."

They said it in such a blasé fashion that Candela didn't know how to proceed. Fortunately, Spark picked back up for her.

"We were going to try CPR, but when I reached for you, I, er… I shocked you. Enough to, uh, start you pumping again."

Blanche closed their eyes, but Candela could see motion under their eyelids, as if their eyes were chasing a wild cycle of thoughts around their skull.

"How?" Blanche finally asked.

Spark fidgeted with his hands. "I'm not sure. It wasn't intentional."

"It had to be Zapdos, right?" Candela cut in. "Somehow, Spark must have channeled it."

Blanche's hand rested over their heart. "And managed to deliver just the right amount electricity to just the right locations?"

"We all completed the same first aid training, you know," Spark said, countering the disbelief in Blanche's tone. "But since I didn't really mean to do it, I guess we were just lucky."

"Or Zapdos is invested in keeping us all alive and knows enough about human anatomy to resuscitate a host," Blanche said, and Candela felt odd about the insinuation that the legendary birds were parasites to them. "It needs us all to survive long enough to open the door, or Zapdos and the other birds will surely die with us."

Their words were chilling. Blanche pushed themself away from Candela and tried to pull themself up with the side of the cart. Both Spark and Candela grabbed them to hold them back.

"Whoa! Slow down, Blanche," Spark said. "Let's take a moment to recuperate."

"There's no time," Blanche stated, shaking themself free of the others. They again attempted to haul themself upright, but their legs slid out from under them and they collapsed back into the cushioned cart.

Candela rearranged herself so she could pin Blanche down before they could have another go. "Blanche, you aren't ready to-"

"I _died_ , Candela."

It hardly sounded like Blanche's voice. It was rough and broken and enough to freeze Candela's blood. She looked into Blanche's eyes and saw a terror she'd never seen in her friend before. She wanted to look away, to deny what she was seeing, but she couldn't.

"I died," Blanche repeated softly, their lips quivering. "I thought we had time. I thought I might disappear for a while like I did before, but then come back. I thought it would be a gradual descent for all of us, but it's not. If you hadn't been there, if you hadn't noticed, then I wouldn't be here now. Do you understand?"

Candela fumbled for a response. "Blanche, don't talk like this…"

"We have to go. I don't care if you have to pull me in this cart, but we cannot stay here," Blanche stated, tightening their jaw to combat the shaking. "Spark, we'll go with your plan. See if Rutabaga can charge Dr. Dillinger's communicator. If she can, send out a message and let Team Rocket track the device."

"Aye-aye," Spark said, but without the cheerful spirit that should have accompanied the comical reply.

"I'd like to think that meeting with Waik influenced the severity of what just happened, but I can't be sure," Blanche said, their voice a bit gentler. They were backtracking, it was obvious. "Let's not take risks, though. The sooner we're out of here, the better."

Candela stood and picked up the cart handles again. "OK. Spark, can you walk and charge?"

Spark plucked a pokéball from the duffel and tossed it in the air, trying to be playful, despite the broken smile on his face that betrayed how he really felt. "Rootie and I can handle it. In fact, with my new superpowers, maybe I can handle it on my own."

"Don't do that," Blanche said.

Spark chuckled. "I won't. I'm glad you're back, Blanche. Even though you're being a backseat driver at the moment."

Blanche smiled weakly. "I'm sorry, Spark."

"That's OK, Blanche," Spark said as they started down the trail. "But you're footing the cost of our first therapy session when we get out of here, since you've forever traumatized us by dying and all that."

It was supposed to be funny, but Candela didn't feel like laughing. Luckily, Blanche surprised her with a laugh from their seat in the cart.

"I suppose that's only fair," they said.

Candela caught Spark turning his face to hide his tears as the trio began the final leg of their journey.


	29. Chapter 29

"He was right there! I'm certain of it!"

Captain Pollard raised an eyebrow and smiled smugly at Dr. Dillinger. "Uh-huh. Your long lost hypno just happened to reappear and tell you which way to go, and now he's conveniently gone. Darn!"

Dillinger crossed her arms. The tension between them had been mounting the longer they wandered the dark and terrifying maze of the mountain, but she'd found a way to keep herself cool. How easy it would be for Pollard to get lost down here, never to resurface. Nobody would even suspect foul play, not after everything that had happened. She mentally rehearsed what she'd say in her report to her higher-ups. _Gosh, Giovanni, it was a nightmare down there! Poor Captain Pollard… he never saw that cliff coming. Oh, Giovanni, I tried to save him. I tried to tell him to look out for those terrifying creatures, but he said he could handle himself. What a shame._

"Hypno was here, Captain," she said with an insincere grin. "He was standing by that passageway and waving me on. He wants us to follow him."

"Yes, of course he does," Pollard said. "Follow him to our deaths, maybe. Even if you did see Hypno, why the hell would he want to help us? Seems to me you two aren't on the best of terms."

"I trained him from a hatchling. I've designed and installed his implant. I know this pokémon," Dillinger said, her smile flickering. "He's obviously remembered where his loyalty lies and is returning to help us out. Perhaps he's a bit skittish and isn't ready to get too close quite yet, but I can understand that."

Pollard rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh… Oh, I get it now. You're hungry for a little vengeance, aren't you, Dr. D.?"

Damn, he'd seen right through her. The ring of Rocket grunts around them began to whisper to one another, but Dillinger silenced them with a hateful glare. _Giovanni, you should have been there. It was a massacre. I was lucky to get out alive. All those grunts… such a waste…_

"That's fine, Doc," Pollard said with a shrug. "I totally get it. But we have three paths in front of us, and we can't base our decision on your desire to get back at the pokémon that outsmarted you."

Dillinger clenched her fists. _I did everything I could to save him, Giovanni. But there's no helping some people. Rest in pieces, Cap'n._

"Just how _are_ we meant to decide then, Captain? Because so far, you've led us into nothing but hordes of bloodthirsty monsters," Dillinger pointed out, maintaining her sugar-sweet smile.

His face cracked for a half second, and he opened his mouth to reply. Before he could, his communicator buzzed. All at once, a chorus of buzzing arose, and the dozen grunts around Dillinger reached for their devices at once, exchanging nervous glances as they did.

Pollard blinked in confusion as he looked at his communicator, then looked at Dillinger and smiled wickedly. "Looks like you've sent a group message."

"What do you-" But realization struck before she could finish. "Oh…"

Pollard cleared his throat and began to read. "'Howdy, Rockets!' Then there's a little rocket ship emoji, how cute."

Dillinger rolled her eyes. "You don't have to read the emoji out loud."

"Don't be an idiot. Of course I have to read the emoji out loud," Pollard said, matter-of-factly. "Ahem, where was I? Right, the rocket ship. 'We hope you have been enjoying your time in the mountain.' Aw, sweet of them. 'Unfortunately, it's time to go home, and we're your ride.' Sad face emoji."

 _Yes, you heard me right, Giovanni. He was totally eviscerated. Little pieces of him everywhere. And he used to be so handsome. Pity._

"'I've turned on the tracking system for this communicator so you can find us. Unless you want to die down here,' skull emoji, 'you should meet up with us so we can lead you through the portal. We know where it is, and we're your only chance to see the light of day again.' Sun emoji, thumbs-up emoji, poop emoji, and another poop emoji."

"Such eloquence," Dillinger commented.

Pollard continued reading. "'Hypno should have been by to help you out by now, in case it's too hard to track my beacon through the tunnels. He's got a knack for navigating them. Hope to see you soon, my dudes. TTFN, XOXO, Spark.' Oh, and then there's a little P.S. specifically for you, Doc."

Dillinger tilted her head. "Go on, then."

"'Dr. Dillinger, I suspect Candela will try to kill you when you show up. You'll be lucky if she finds you before I do. But I see more than Candela sees. There is no hiding from me.' Heart emoji."

For some reason, a chill ran down Dr. Dillinger's back. She scoffed to hide it. "And that's meant to be intimidating?"

Pollard tapped on his communicator, looking for the beacon Spark's message had mentioned. "You sure are quick to write off one of Professor Willow's acclaimed assistants."

Dillinger cackled. "Candela would definitely kill me if she had the chance. Maybe even Blanche would. But Spark? What a joke."

Pollard suddenly sobered up and looked her in the eye. "There are worse fates than death, Doc. You of all people should know that." He returned his attention to his communicator. "Not only that, but wasn't Spark the first one to throw a wrench in your plans? I wouldn't underestimate the guy."

"Do you get off by playing the devil's advocate?" Dillard snapped.

Pollard smirked. "I'm trying to help you out, Doc. Spark, Candela, and Blanche turned your spelunking experiment into a fiasco. We need to be prepared for them. Don't you remember the storm that wrecked Trichroma Town when Zapdos showed up? It made Articuno's blizzard look like a winter wonderland. That bird doesn't mess around, and neither, I suspect, does the human it's connected to. What's that saying Team Instinct has?"

One of the grunts raised his hand and answered. "There is no shelter from the storm?"

Pollard snapped his fingers. "That's the one. There is no shelter from the storm. Sounds a lot like, 'There is no hiding from me.'"

"Tauros shit," Dillinger hissed. She refused to be shaken. "Look, are we going to stand around all day, or are we going to find those cocky little fucks and get out of this hellhole?"

"What a potty-mouth!" Pollard taunted. "But you've got a point. You heard the doctor, troops. Let's move out."

Dillinger stepped aside, letting Pollard lead the way down the tunnel that Hypno had pointed out to her. So, he'd truly switched sides, had he? Maybe Pollard was right.

There were fates worse than death, and Hypno's fate was sealed.

§

 **AN:** It's been a while since I've done a two-fer, huh? I thought about spreading out the two chapters I released today, but I'm avoiding studying. Um. I mean. This part was actually cut from the previous chapter, since I didn't want to switch perspectives in the same segment. Thus, two chapters today. Also, I write a lot when I'm stressed. I'm very stressed. 3 3 3


	30. Chapter 30

Blanche and Candela waited for Spark to give the signal to remove the circlet from his head. Candela had requested that she be the one to wear the circlet again, since she'd been the one to do it before and knew what to expect. But Spark had insisted that he do it this time. He didn't say why, but Blanche thought they knew the reason, and agreed with the logic. Candela was overdue for an incident, and the last time she'd worn the circlet, she'd had a close encounter with Moltres. For Candela, using the circlet would be an open invitation for Moltres to channel its rage through her, like it had done before, and like Blanche feared it would do again.

"How's it going, Spark?" Candela asked.

Spark's unnaturally dilated pupils stared sightlessly through her. "Getting somewhere. Hold on."

Candela's eyes shifted to Blanche, and they could tell she was looking for some kind of feedback, or maybe just reassurance. She'd probably noticed the change in Spark, too. Of course she'd noticed, probably much sooner than Blanche had. They were always the last to detect shifts in mood or emotion. But whatever had altered within Spark as their group had traversed the tunnel had been sudden and dramatic. He'd been walking along with Rutabaga on his shoulder, carefully funneling electricity from the tip of her tail into Dillinger's communicator, and then…

Then, he wasn't Spark anymore.

Blanche mentally chided themself for thinking something so melodramatic. He was still Spark, obviously. But everything about him changed in a split second. His posture straightened, his jaw squared, and his eyes lost the softness so inherent to them. He called Rutabaga back to her ball as soon as she'd finished charging the communicator rather than letting her stay out with him. Even when the tunnel had opened up into the immense, hollow cone of the dead volcano, his affect remained flat and cold. Candela had exclaimed in wonder at the vast space and the narrow trail that corkscrewed up it, around and around, spiraling to a point so impossibly far above them that Blanche felt dizzy looking at it.

But Spark barely blinked as he led the way across the bottom of the cone, toward the start of the spiral trail. The blue light of the hundreds of blue crystal clusters illuminated an expression on his face that was at once familiar and foreign. The corner of his lip twisted up subtly, a smirk that could be mistaken for a snarl. It was the face Spark wore when he was up to something, some puckish prank or silly stunt. But there was a wrongness to it now that Blanche couldn't make sense of.

He had been the one to write the message, and for a moment, Blanche thought they'd been imagining the change in him. The message was so goofy and absurd and unprofessional and perfectly Spark-ish, and Blanche didn't even argue with him about the ridiculous inclusion of emoji. He'd ended the message with "XOXO," for crying out loud. He'd told them not to send it until he finished with Hypno via the circlet, just to be sure everything worked out like the message said it would.

"Blanche?" Candela pulled them back into the present and pointed at Spark.

A trail of blood dripped from his nose, but he didn't react to it.

"It happened to you, too. He'll be fine," Blanche said. "What's your status, Spark?"

That not-quite-right smirk played across his lips again. "Hypno found them. Dillinger's taking the bait."

"Good," said Candela, popping her knuckles eagerly. "OK, let's get that ring off of you."

"Wait," Spark said sharply, blindly extending his hand to fend her off.

"Is something wrong?" Blanche asked, their fingers poised to tap the controls on Dillinger's device.

Spark's mouth moved soundlessly, shaping loose, unspoken words. Paired with his distant, blackened eyes and bleeding nose, he was an eerie echo of himself. Blanche waited for as long as they could stand it before speaking up.

"Spark," Blanche said, louder.

"It's fine, it's fine," Spark hastened to reply.

A second streak of blood started from his other nostril, flowing faster than the first. Blanche wavered for several seconds before selecting the button to deactivate the circlet. Spark gasped as the device shut down, but the process went much smoother than it had gone for Candela. His pupils constricted and he slumped backward, allowing the ringlet to slip off his head and clatter to the ground.

Candela dropped down next to Spark and guided him back into a seated position. She immediately held the sleeve of her robe to his face to slow the bleeding, though her upper lip twisted in mild disgust.

Blanche knelt in front of them as Spark's eyes regained focus. Their entire body ached and their chest felt tight, but they supposed that some discomfort could be expected after having their heart restarted via electric shock. It was still hard to comprehend what had happened. Their heart started to pound every time they thought of that eternity they'd spent drowning in the frigid water of their own mind, so they couldn't linger on the memory for long. Best to lock such thoughts away.

"Are you OK?" they asked.

Spark reprieved Candela by substituting the sleeve of his own robe. His voice was muffled by it as he answered. "Yup. The deed is done. Can I see the communicator?"

Blanche didn't see a reason not to give it to him, but felt uneasy as he snatched the device from their hands. Spark immediately stood up and strode away from Blanche and Candela, a bit wobbly on his feet, but moving with determination. His thumbs flew over the communicator's surface, tapping swiftly.

"What are you doing?" Candela asked, holding her bloodied sleeve away from herself.

"Sending the message," Spark said, not bothering to look up from his task. "And… there. Sent."

He tucked the communicator into the sleeve of his robe and grinned at his friends, a disturbing sight considering the blood smeared across his face.

"Uh… you sure you're feeling alright, Sparky?" Candela asked, clearly as put off by Spark's demeanor as Blanche was.

"I'm feeling super, Candy," he replied.

"You don't say," Candela said, crossing her arms. "What were you typing just now?"

Spark limped toward the cart, which sat at the base of the trail, and rummaged through the duffel bag. "I wasn't typing anything. I just forgot where to find the message screen."

"Right. Fine. Let's try another question," Candela said. "Why did you want us to wait before removing the circlet-thing?"

"Just wanted to make sure Hypno was safe," Spark assured her as he pulled out a wad of clothing from the bag. "Ah, here we go! I was starting to miss my old style. How about you, Candela? Care to change into something with slightly less blood on it?"

Candela frowned at her bloodied clothes. "Yes, obviously. But you're not off the hook. What are you up to?"

Spark tossed Candela's clothes to her. "I'm not up to anything."

Candela grabbed the clothes out of the air with more force than necessary. "That's exactly what someone who's up to something would say. You're being weird, Spark. Weirder than usual."

Spark's laugh was hollow. "You want to talk about weird? Weird like an underground society of psychics that hasn't seen a real pokémon in a thousand years? Weird like bloodthirsty human-pokémon hybrids? How about the pack of murderous criminals coming for us right now? Or the legendary pokémon that have taken up residence in our skulls? Or the tiny little fact that Blanche _died_ today? I mean, how weird is _that_?"

Blanche's heart accelerated. Suddenly, they felt breathless and lightheaded. It was like a stranger was speaking through Spark's mouth. His words were too sharp and his blue eyes had dimmed to the ominous gray of approaching storm clouds.

"Spark, you're scaring me."

Candela's words surprised Blanche. They watched how her fingers tightened around the wad of clothing Spark had tossed to her. She was telling the truth. Candela, the notoriously fearless leader of Team Valor, was afraid.

Spark's expression flickered and shifted, and just like that, he looked like the real Spark again. He sucked in a quick, startled breath and turned away from Candela, busying himself with sorting out his own clothes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he said sheepishly. His ears burned red as he bent to remove his brace and pull his pants on beneath his robe.

Candela loosened her grip and cleared her throat, and even Blanche could recognize the attempt to downplay her moment of fear. "It's fine. We're all anxious, that's all. It's a matter of time before Team Rocket finds their way here, and I have a feeling they won't be happy to see us."

"Right," Blanche said. They had to get back on track before time ran out. "When they arrive, I'll propose a temporary truce to Dr. Dillinger. There's a chance she already knows what Waik told us about the sacrifice to be made at the gate, considering her years of research on it. That will work in our favor. If she believes that we won't survive opening the door, she'll be more likely to agree with our terms, since she won't expect us to live long enough for her to fulfill her side of the deal."

"And what's her side of the deal?" Spark asked as he tugged his robe off over his head. Blanche caught a brief glimpse of the pink, still-healing scar across his back before he tugged his hoodie into place over it.

"Were you not listening to Blanche's plan?" Candela asked, sliding her arms into her jacket sleeves. "We already went over this in the tunnel on the way here."

"Crap, I'm sorry," Spark said. "I guess I was distracted."

"It's alright," Blanche said. "I'll give Team Rocket two options. The first option is for them to allow us to lead the way out of the mountain on the condition that they surrender to an official arrest once we're all out. If they don't agree to the conditions or refuse to negotiate, the second option comes into play. We'll tell them that we won't open the door, and will remain trapped down here with them unless they comply."

"Couldn't they just force us to open the door like they did the first time?" Spark asked.

"They could if they had the birds," said Candela. "But as far as they know, the birds are missing. We'll tell them we know where they are but will only call them if the Rockets agree to surrender."

"Dr. Dillinger will almost certainly agree to the terms of surrender if she believes that we don't know about the sacrifice," Blanche said.

Spark leaned against the cart. "But what happens next? Do you really think they'll surrender if we live to see the other side of the door?"

"If we make it, then it will be Team Rocket versus us and our three very angry legendary birds," Candela said, smirking.

"We'll aim to capture at least Dillinger. Alive, of course," Blanche said, directing the last bit at Candela.

"And if we don't make it?" Spark asked.

"Then we trust Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres to let the door seal Team Rocket outside of the mountain," Blanche said.

"And then avenge our deaths," Candela added, and Blanche supposed the remark was meant to be playful.

Spark looked down as he donned his gloves. "And Team Rocket goes free?"

"No one will be there to take them into custody, no, but I wouldn't call them 'free' either," Blanche said, speaking before Candela could. "We've witnessed the rage that at least Moltres feels toward them. It will be a mercy for Team Rocket if we live, because we may be able to bargain with the birds for their lives. If we're not there to try to control them, the Rockets could be in grave danger."

Spark nodded solemnly and adjusted the lapels of his black and yellow jacket. His signature outfit had seen better days, but Blanche preferred it to the odd robe that Waik had given him.

"So, it's a win-win," Spark said with an ironical smile.

Candela snorted. "I don't know about you, but I'm rooting for the scenario that doesn't end with our deaths."

Spark mimed raising a glass to Candela, as if to say, _cheers to that_. Then he reached for his discarded robe and hunted through its folds for the communicator. He clicked through it as he cleaned the rest of the blood from his chin with the robe's sleeve.

"Can you see the other Team Rocket communicators?" Blanche asked.

"Unfortunately, no. They must be able to track our signal without transmitting their own locations," Spark said.

"Meaning we have no idea when they'll show up, or how many of them there will be," Candela said.

"I only saw about a dozen or so with Dillinger, but there could be other groups," Spark said, slipping the communicator into his pocket. "So, what do we do now?"

Blanche tightened their ponytail. It was a small ritual, one that gave them a sense of composure and control. There would be time to think about every insane thing that had transpired in this mountain, but it would have to wait until this last trial was over. If they survived it.

"We prepare as much as we can," Blanche said. "And we wait."


	31. Chapter 31

Dr. Dillinger strained her neck to take in the majesty of the ancient magma chamber. The vast, hollow cone of it soared into dark and unknown heights. The area was large enough to contain the whole of her original lab and then some. Hell, Dillinger could easily picture a football game taking place on the floor of it, with room to spare for bleachers. The mind-boggling space was made more spectacular by the massive, glowing crystal formations that jutted from the walls and floor in thick clusters. The area was washed in shades of blue and purple, mysterious and peaceful.

But there was no time for peace. Dillinger kept herself tucked behind the taller members of Team Rocket as they stepped into the chamber. Captain Pollard had suggested she hide in a tunnel until the leaders could be subdued, but that wasn't her style, and she'd sooner die than show an ounce of cowardice in front of the captain. She'd show that cocky bastard what she was made of. But from behind other Rockets, just to be on the safe side.

After she'd taken in the grandeur of the scene, Dillinger focused on the figures standing on the opposite side of the space. Blanche, Candela, and Spark waited at the foot of the trail that climbed the walls in a rising loop. Dillinger's heart sank. Of course they'd all have to climb that narrow, nauseatingly high trail to get to the door. She reminded herself of the golden future that awaited her on the other side. Surely, that was worth a little hike.

The team leaders looked just as bedraggled as the Rockets, if not more so. Their clothes were muddied and torn, and their shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. Dillinger smirked. Despite Spark's flippant text, it looked like Professor Willow's gang had been brutalized by the mountain as well. Still, Dillinger remembered Spark's warning. She kept her head low and her attention on Candela.

Something short and yellow moved behind Candela's legs. Apparently, Dillinger wasn't the only one hiding today. Her hypno peeked from behind his protector, watching the crowd of Rockets as they approached. Almost too quickly, he found her. Dillinger nearly missed a step as his eyes locked with hers.

But the pokémon didn't notify his new comrades of Dillinger's presence. At least, not in a way she could detect. Candela maintained a fiercely resolute expression, her attention fixed on Captain Pollard as he led the march forward. Blanche stood between and slightly forward of their companions, as unreadable as ever. Spark seemed strangely relaxed and disinterested in the goings-on, preferring to inspect his gloves, as if Team Rocket's presence didn't bother him in the slightest. Dillinger nearly found it offensive.

As soon as she thought it, Spark's eyes lifted, catching hers with the same immediate focus as Hypno. Her breath caught and her adrenaline spiked for a moment. Maybe she should have listened to Pollard. What was she thinking? She was barely hidden. At best, the grunts around her were a meat shield.

But then he looked away, and Dillinger released a sigh of relief, ashamed of her brief panic. There was nothing to be afraid of. Team Rocket had the situation under control. Spark and his oblivious friends had mere hours left to live, and they didn't even know it. What a delicious moment it would be when they discovered their fate…

Captain Pollard held up his hand to signal a stop. The Rocket grunts, Dr. Dillinger included, stood back as the captain strode forward to meet Blanche. For once, his cocky grin was reassuring.

"We haven't formally met," he began, extending his hand and bowing slightly. "I'm Captain Jay Pollard. And you are Blanche, I presume?"

Blanche didn't so much as glance at Pollard's offered hand. "We don't have time for pleasantries. I have terms I wish to discuss with Dr. Dillinger."

Pollard straightened up and slid his hand casually into his pocket. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do with me, my dear."

Dillinger could have sworn she felt a rush of cold air pass through her. She clasped the lapels of her battered lab coat against the chill.

"Very well," Blanche said. They nodded toward the array of Rockets behind Pollard. "Is this all of you?"

Pollard sighed, and it was almost authentic. "We've sustained considerable casualties. We are all that remain."

Considerable casualties indeed. Of the several dozen Rockets that had entered the mountain, a sorry group of about 30 had survived. They had congregated using the beacons on their communicators, their faces gaunt and weary, many bearing bloody wounds and carrying significantly fewer pokémon than they'd started with. Pollard's communicator was dotted with the lights of beacons throughout the mountain that didn't move, and would never move again.

"You said you had terms?" Pollard prompted.

"We will lead you to the door on the condition that you surrender to a peaceful arrest once we're free," Blanche stated.

"Not going to happen," Pollard replied, picking at his nails like a bored student in class.

"Then stay here and perish," Blanche said.

"I'm not fond of that option either. Here's what I propose: you submit to us now, we all go to the door, and if I'm in a generous mood once we're out, I'll let you live," Pollard said.

"You forget we have three legendary pokémon ready to defend our lives," Blanche noted.

Pollard rubbed his chin in mock consideration. "You're bluffing, Blanche."

Blanche's impassive face twitched. "You've seen the birds for yourself and you know that they're critical to opening the door. Honestly, it will be lucky for you if we can keep them controlled."

"We've captured the birds before and we can do it again. This time, we have the advantage of already having you connected to them. _You_ forget that there are only three of you. You and any pokémon you still have are outnumbered. Once we subdue you, controlling the birds will be as easy as, say, breaking your wrist," Pollard said. "Or, you know, something a bit more debilitating. I have dozens of creative ideas I'd love to try out."

Behind Blanche, Candela was seething. Dillinger could practically see flames in her eyes. She hoped Pollard knew what he was doing.

"But none of that matters, because you're obviously bluffing," Pollard said. "You think you have your thoughts on lockdown, Blanche, but in reality you're an open book. There's doubt written across your face. Something is going on with the legendary pokémon that you don't want us to know about. I get the feeling they won't be as big a threat as you'd have us believe."

Spark reached for a pokéball at his waist. Surely, Pollard saw that. Dillinger's hand rested on the one pokéball she had left, ready to draw at the drop of a hat.

"Like you said, no time to waste," Pollard said. "Surrender now, or prepare to fight."

"You don't want to fight us," Candela said. Or, Dillinger thought it was Candela. It was both her voice, and not her voice. Though Candela's lips formed what should have been a smile, the expression was sinister.

Spark seemed to pick up on the change as well. Suddenly, all of his attention was directed at Candela.

"It will hardly be a fight," Pollard said.

In the blink of an eye, he whipped a pokéball out of his pocket and released his victreebel. Dillinger rushed to release Jynx as well, just as Spark threw out his jigglypuff.

Pollard pointed at the three leaders. "Victreebel, Stun Sp-"

He never finished the command. The victreebel collapsed under a torrent of fire, shrieking as the blaze engulfed it. The flames licked toward Pollard, who jumped back with a face of genuine shock.

Dillinger searched for the fire pokémon that must have been deployed, but found only Candela, her arm reaching toward Pollard, the air warping around her, superheated. Dillinger's mouth hung open in disbelief as she shrank away from the group of equally astounded grunts. This couldn't be real. Was Candela so deeply bonded to Moltres that she could channel its power? The thought was both petrifying and wondrous. Maybe Dillinger had been so focused on the secrets of the ancient civilization that she'd missed the scientific potential of the leaders and their birds. Could such a bond be artificially replicated?

Another gush of flame brought Dillinger out of her fantasy. Candela's eyes burned white and pupil-less as fire poured from her palms, forcing Team Rocket back as her friends looked on in horror. Dillinger came to her senses. This was no time to daydream about new experiments. Candela was coming for her, just as Spark had warned. A wave of terror flooded Dillinger's body, turning her legs to jelly.

"Jynx!" Dillinger shouted as she retreated behind a crystal pillar. The other Rockets followed her lead, running for cover as Candela stepped forward to broaden the reach of her flames. "Use Blizzard! Quickly!"

Jynx looked at Dillinger, her eyes wide with horror and reflecting the yellow light of Candela's blaze. The insubordinate ice pokémon knew what chance she stood against a fire type, the poor, worthless thing. Dillinger was about to threaten the jynx with a fate much worse than fainting when the flames abruptly stopped.

"Give her to me," Candela demanded, her voice filling up the cavern more than it naturally should have. Her blank eyes passed over the Rockets, hunting for her prey.

"Candela, snap out of it!" Spark called. Dillinger's hypno had switched to cowering behind him instead, along with Spark's jigglypuff.

Candela ignored him. "Give me Dillinger, and your deaths will be swift."

Blanche reached for Candela's shoulder, and Dillinger flinched on their behalf. What did the fool think they were doing? Did Blanche _want_ to burn themself? This sort of thoughtless mistake was not like the Blanche Dillinger had come to know.

Spark waved his arms frantically at them. "Blanche, no! It's not her! It's-"

But it was too late. The Valor leader whirled on Blanche, catching them in the gut with a punch that threw them at least ten feet. They hit the ground and slid another few feet, curling into a tight ball as they stopped, clutching their abdomen. Dillinger cupped her hands over her mouth to muffle her cry of surprise.

Spark sprinted toward Blanche, nearly tripping over some kind of metal contraption on his leg. Dillinger didn't doubt that Candela was powerful on her own, but no human could strike like that. Moltres was working through her, and it apparently didn't give a damn about the petty human obstacles in its way. Blanche was supposed to be the brains of the group. How had they not seen this coming? Were they that blinded by their friendship with Candela? What a pathetic waste of potential.

Several pairs of hands fell on Dillinger at once, and she was yanked from her hiding place.

"What the hell is this?! Get off me!" Dillinger shrieked as her fellow Rockets dragged her forward.

"Take her!" one of the grunts shouted to Candela as he tossed Dillinger to the ground. "Just let us go!"

Dillinger glared at the grunt. "You steaming heap of human waste, I will personally deliver your traitorous ass to Giovanni!"

"Everyone, call out your pokémon! Don't give in to Candela's demands! Human or pokémon, she's not invincible!"

For the second time in a single day, Dr. Dillinger was grateful for Captain Pollard. She scrambled to her feet as the grunts released their pokémon around her. Even a legendary pokémon could be broken. She'd done it before. The odds were still in Team Rocket's favor.

Even so, Dillinger's heart plummeted into her stomach as she turned to see Candela gliding toward her, her feet no longer touching the floor. Dillinger was completely exposed to this approaching abomination, with only a handful of battle-weary pokémon around her for protection. She let out a weak, fearful cry as Candela lifted higher, a fountain of flames spreading from behind her back like fiery wings, blindingly bright against the blue darkness of the cavern.

"Attack her! NOW!" Pollard commanded.

The chamber filled with the sound of grunts ordering their pokémon to take action. Golbats, arboks, and weezings attacked in unison, physically launching themselves at Candela or spitting poison and clouds of smog. She dodged with fluid, dancing motions, like she was only passingly aware that she was being targeted. When a fearow darted too close, she casually lifted her hand and doused the pokémon in fire, sending it careening toward the ground like a meteorite burning through the atmosphere.

Candela's fire cast flickering shadows across Captain Pollard's stern face. Dillinger couldn't take pleasure in the fear she saw in the man as he watched Team Rocket's pokémon faint, one after another, until the sorry few that remained gave up and retreated out of the chamber, preferring to face the terrible creatures in the tunnels rather than continue this fruitless battle. It was a matter of time before Candela turned her fury on the humans once more.

"Moltres!"

Candela paused and tilted her head at the sound of Spark's voice.

Behind her, positioned in front of Blanche's prone body, stood Spark. He held a pokéball aloft so Candela could see it over her shoulder.

"You've made your point, Moltres," Spark said, sweat sliding down his brow. Hypno and the jigglypuff attended to Blanche at his back, and they glanced up nervously as he spoke. "I think Team Rocket is willing to work with us now."

Dillinger held her breath. Had this been part of their plan all along?

Candela – or Moltres, or whatever the fiery figure was – smirked. "Us? There is no 'us,' human. You are all the same, and you will all suffer as I have been forced to suffer."

"Even Candela?" Spark challenged.

"I'll roast her from the inside out," she replied.

No, this couldn't have been planned. But Dillinger appreciated the distraction. She started to back away from the others, ready to race for the cover of the tunnel.

With a flick of his wrist, Spark winged the pokéball toward Candela. Dillinger expected to see something small, either the sandslash or raichu she'd see when she had confiscated Spark's pokémon on the other side of the door. To her surprise, Blanche's enormous gyarados materialized in the cavern. The pokémon landed hard on the ground, creating a shockwave that threatened to knock her off her feet.

It was the last straw for the Rocket grunts. They scattered out of the way, tumbling over each other, calling fainted pokémon back to their balls as quickly as they could manage while avoiding the undulating body of the gyarados. The gyarados's tail crashed through crystals haphazardly, spraying shattered chunks of them into the air. She bellowed, and the ground shuddered under Dillinger's feet again.

But the quaking didn't die away this time. Dillinger crouched low to the unsteady ground, desperately wracking her brain for a plan, for a way to survive what could very easily be a cave-in. Twenty feet away, she found Captain Pollard in a similar position, his perfect hair a sweaty mess. She'd have time to revel in that later, if she managed to live through this new disaster.

"Gyarados! Surf!"

Dillinger felt like her body had been rushed by electricity as Spark called the command. The gyarados reared back and aimed a powerful geyser at Candela, knocking her from the air with a sizzle of doused flames. The water rushed freely from the gyarados's gaping maw, driving Candela to the ground and flooding the area around the brawlers. Dillinger turned and sprinted away, furiously wiping a spray of mist from her glasses as she bolted for the tunnel, barely keeping her feet under her as the rocky terrain bucked and trembled.

She chanced a look over her shoulder. As the gyarados's attack ran dry, Candela hauled herself upright again, steam billowing up from her flesh, the sleeves of her jacket completely burned away. Distracted as she was, Dillinger failed to see the cluster of crystals until her foot hooked it and sent her flying. She faceplanted and the sharp pain of her broken nose rushed back to her all at once. She cried out and clutched her face. Above her pounding heartbeat and the cacophony of fleeing grunts, she heard Candela's voice.

"You really believed that would be enough to stop me? You're even stupider than Candela thinks you are."

Dillinger forced herself to sit up. More steam engulfed Candela and the area around her, leaving only a human-shaped shadow in the middle of a huge puddle of water. The gyarados was gone, but something smaller zipped through the fog. Dillinger caught a flash of orange and realized what was happening.

"Rutabaga, Discharge!"

Thunder boomed through Dillinger's chest as the steam around Candela exploded with yellow light. A bloodcurdling shriek cut the air, but was soon lost to the bass rumble of shifting stone.

Dizzy from the pain in her head, Dillinger willed herself up and took off once more, focusing all her energy on the tunnel entrance, where she might find shelter from falling rocks. Her legs throbbed from the effort, and she discovered that, quite suddenly, she was running uphill. The roof wasn't caving in…

The floor was collapsing.

As soon as the reality set in, she saw great cracks spreading on either side of her. A chorus of screams swelled and then faded as the ground gave way and swallowed the grunts behind her. The tunnel entrance was so close, so tantalizingly close! She yelped in horror as the ground sank beneath her, and she kicked off one last time.

She landed in the mouth of the tunnel, where she frantically army-crawled forward, away from the disintegrating ground. Exhausted, she clasped her hands over the back of her head, as if that could protect her, and tried to block out the dwindling screams of her comrades.

The voices stopped before the booming of tumbling rocks did. Minutes passed, and the sound lessened gradually, and then disappeared.

Dr. Dillinger, her body shaking like a leaf in a storm, lifted her head. Dust filled the tunnel as a gray cloud, and she coughed to clear her mouth of the stuff. She pulled herself up against the wall and tried to make sense of the new landscape. All she could see was darkness beyond the tunnel, punctuated by the glow of the few crystal structures that had survived the collapse. The old magma chamber had been much bigger than she could have predicted, with a false floor that must have been formed by unstable volcanic rock from the dead volcano's last eruption. Nervously, Dillinger peered over the newly-made edge.

Two eyes greeted her from the darkness, and she nearly fainted.

"Doc! Oh, Doc, am I glad to see you…"

Captain Jay Pollard was pressed against the wall just below the lip of the tunnel, belly to the stone, his feet having miraculously found purchase on a tiny crag of rock. He kept a white-knuckled grip on the wall. The darkness extended below him without end, and it made Dillinger's head spin.

"Doc, help me up!" Pollard demanded with a twitchy, terrified smile. "I tried to call out my fearow, but I can't reach the pokéball."

Dillinger eyed the pokéball on the back of his belt. If Pollard tried to reach back for it, he'd surely lose is balance. Dillinger lowered herself flush against the ground and reached her arms over the edge.

"Grab my hands," she said, making a conscious effort to control the vibration of her voice. Even now, she didn't want to appear weak in front of the captain.

Pollard reached up for her one hand at a time, his breathing quick and shallow. Dillinger locked hands with him and acted as an anchor as he pulled himself up the wall. Lucky for him, he had a lean, twiggy body. Dillinger wasn't sure she could pull up someone any heavier than him.

She reached around his shoulders as he neared the top, helping him to nearly reach the ledge, and then paused. She snaked her arm down his back and plucked the pokéball from its place.

Pollard stiffened. "Doc?"

She whispered into his ear as she slipped the pokéball containing his fearow into her pocket.

"It's Dr. Joan Dillinger, you piece of shit."

He didn't make a sound as he fell. She watched his horror-stricken eyes fade into the darkness as he plummeted, and she felt nothing. A few seconds passed, followed by a distant, wet thud.

Satisfied, Dr. Dillinger returned her attention to the vast chamber. A little ways down on the opposite wall, she could barely make out something white and spherical. An orb of ice, perhaps? Something that a person who could channel the powers of Articuno might create in an act of self-preservation? It looked big enough for at least a couple humans to fit in comfortably, and as she looked closer, appeared to be sitting on a stone shelf.

It had to be them. If anyone could survive both a drowning and an electrocution, it was Candela. Dillinger was counting on her and her friends to pull through, like the tenacious cockroaches they were. But they weren't the only ones who were built to endure.

"OK, Fearow," Dillinger said, patting the pokéball in her pocket. "Let's see if all three of our favorite research subjects survived, and then let's make them wish they hadn't."


	32. Chapter 32

It had all gone wrong. It had gone so, so wrong.

And yet, Spark should have seen it coming. He should have come up with a way to mitigate the inevitable. He'd been worried that Candela would finally break, but he did nothing to stop it. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he'd told himself that she was stronger than he was, and stronger than Blanche, too. After all, she'd managed to keep it together better than either of the other leaders. In his gut, Spark knew it would come crashing down, that not even the mighty Candela could withstand the fire burning in her head.

But he did nothing.

He had watched helplessly as Candela was devoured by the legendary bird inside her. He'd failed to protect Blanche, who had reached for their friend, and who should have known better. Blanche must have been in denial as well, their usual logic overthrown by their concern for Candela.

It wasn't meant to go this way. Team Rocket was supposed to agree to Blanche's truce, and then they all should have climbed the trail. On the way up, Spark would have separated Dillinger from the bunch, and he and Hypno would have…

It didn't matter. Nothing did. Spark was cold and blind and paralyzed. Was this death? Why did his body still ache? Why couldn't it all just end?

He couldn't be dead. Not after everything he'd survived. Death would be too much of a gift at this point. Spark focused on opening his eyes, but the task seemed monumental. He strained until he could see a sliver of white light.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his sight returned. Wherever he was, it was freezing and headachingly white. Perhaps this was some sort of terrible afterlife, and he was trapped here for all eternity, alone and shivering and unable to truly die.

But Spark wasn't alone. A dark figure lay nearby, her back to him, completely still.

"Candela?"

She didn't reply. Adrenaline surged from Spark's heart, jumpstarting him enough to crawl to her across what he now realized was ice. He turned her on her back so he could see her face.

Candela looked like she was sleeping peacefully, her face totally relaxed, her breath rising in clouds of steam thanks to the frigid air. Without thinking, Spark pulled her into his lap and hugged her close, relieved to find her body warm and alive. As he held her, he searched for hidden injuries, for broken bones or electricity burns or gashes from the fall. Miraculously, he found no new damage on her body. Maybe Moltres was to thank for that.

Moltres. Spark couldn't make sense of the dramatic change in the pokémon's attitude as it overpowered Candela. In Candela's mind, the bird had seemed volatile, sure, but also hurt and seeking comfort from Candela. There had been a strange kind of love there. What had happened? Was the pokémon losing its mind as well?

Would the same thing happen to Articuno? To Zapdos?

The pieces of the puzzle fell in place in Spark's frazzled mind. This icy room, Articuno… where was Blanche? He twisted his neck to look around. There, almost within reach, was the cart, and next to it, so pale that they nearly blended into the ice, sat Blanche. Spark yelped in surprise and horror as he met their wide-open eyes, which looked frosted-over and sightless. Veins of ice laced across their skin, forming intricate designs on their graying flesh.

"Blanche!"

Spark dragged himself toward them, pulling Candela with him, afraid to let go, as if she would disappear if he stopped touching her. He lifted an unsteady hand to Blanche's neck and flinched back, shocked by the inhuman coldness of their body. They were frozen into the wall, their back partially hidden by the ice that spread from it.

They should have been dead. They _looked_ dead. But a soft hiss of air and the almost undetectable rise and fall of their chest told Spark that Blanche was still breathing. He fumbled for a pokéball from his belt, his fingers numbed and clumsy from the cold.

His sandslash leaped out of the ball, spikes raised, already on the defensive.

"Sir Slashalot, it's OK, we're not under attack," Spark hurriedly reassured the pokémon. "I need you to dig them out! Q-quickly!"

Sir Slashalot jumped in alarm as he followed Spark's gaze to Blanche. The sandslash immediately scuttled closer and began tunneling into the wall, throwing ice-shavings behind him carelessly as he went. Spark shielded Candela from the artificial snow, holding her face close to his chest.

In a matter of seconds, Sir Slashalot had carved Blanche free. The Mystic leader slumped forward, eyes still wide and unblinking. Spark tried to hold their limp upper body up with one arm, unable to do much more in the cramped space.

"Good job, S-Slashy," Spark said, teeth clattering. "Can you t-tunnel us out of here?"

Sir Slashalot saluted with one of his long claws and pounced at the wall, where he set to burrowing. The sound of scraping ice exacerbated Spark's headache, and he tried his best to block it out.

Something rustled in the cart, causing Spark to jolt. Yellow fingers reached over the top of it, followed by a familiar face.

"Hypno! Are you OK?" Spark asked.

The hypno climbed out of the cart and tumbled to the ground. He sat up and clasped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm. He nodded, the motion almost lost in all his shaking.

"Good! C-can you help me move them?"

Hypno nodded again and shuffled close enough for Spark to pass Candela to him. He took her under the arms and began to drag her toward the narrow tunnel Sir Slashalot had made. Spark followed suit, awkwardly hauling Blanche along as he used his elbow to pull himself forward, since the tunnel ceiling was too low for standing or crouching.

The ice walls were only a few feet thick, and Hypno and Spark slid out of Sir Slashalot's tunnel within seconds. After the bright glow of the ice chamber, the surrounding darkness felt especially oppressive. Spark felt his way across the cold stone until he felt Hypno's leg, startling the pokémon.

"I'm sorry for spooking you, Hypster," Spark said, trying to lighten the mood, though he felt anything but light. He reached around in the dark again, shoving away chunks of ice, until he found Candela, the plush of her weathered jacket a familiar sensation under his fingers. He rested his hand on the pokéballs at her waist.

"Flicker? Can you hear me? Which one are you in?"

One of the pokéballs rocked under his palm, so he picked it up and called out the pokémon inside. Candela's ponyta pranced out of the ball, acting as a torch against the surrounding blackness. Flicker whinnied and stamped his hooves, upset at the sight of the unconscious leaders. He went straight for Candela, dipping his head low to nuzzle her, grunting anxiously when she didn't stir from her slumber. He stomped the ground again, overwhelmed by the situation.

"Whoa, Flicker! Easy! She's going to be fine!" Spark said. "But I need your help for that, alright? I need you to help warm them up. Especially Blanche. Can you do that?"

Flicker shifted his weight from side to side, then lay down close to Blanche, allowing his fire to grow.

"Thank you," Spark said, pushing Candela closer to the warmth. He rested her head on Flicker's foreleg, and the pokémon gently lay his head over his trainer in the ponyta equivalent of a hug. He fanned his flaming tail across Blanche's frosted body, applying an even and constant heat.

"Perfect. Let me know the second something goes wrong, OK?"

The ponyta snorted, apparently agreeing to the terms.

Spark sat back with a sigh, and Hypno sank down against him. The two leaned together and caught their breath as Sir Slashalot sniffed around the space, his claws tapping against the stone. Spark took the opportunity to assess the area as well. Several yards away, he could see a sharp edge to the stone slab they rested on, with nothing but shadow beyond it. Spark wasn't sure how deep the drop-off was, but he didn't want to find out. The sphere of ice Blanche had encapsulated them in must have struck some sort of platform in the side of the chamber wall. It had to have been one hell of an impact, because the ground around them was littered with shards of ice that had splintered away from the main sphere.

High above him, blue crystals lit the distant cone of the volcano. Getting back up there wouldn't be easy, but what choice did they have? At least Spark knew where they were. At least they hadn't fallen into the depths with the Rockets.

Spark swallowed around a lump in his throat. There was no way he could have known the floor would give way like that, right? It had been accident. He didn't know Gyarados's weight and the force of the water and the impact of Rutabaga's Discharge would do this much damage, would result in all those Rockets and their pokémon falling, falling...

Without warning, Spark keeled to the side and vomited, alarming both Hypno and Sir Slashalot. Spark coughed and wiped away a trace of bile.

"I'm sorry," he said, weakly. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. All those lives…"

He choked back another wave of nausea. Hypno placed a warm hand on his back as he collected himself.

"They were terrible people, but they didn't deserve that. And all their pokémon…"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about their pokémon. I'll take good care of them."

Spark jumped to his feet in a flash. Dillinger's voice echoed in the chamber, but he knew it couldn't be the real Dillinger. No one could have survived that fall, not without Blanche's ice cocoon. It was his mind playing tricks on him again.

But if that was the case, why did Hypno look so frightened? A quick survey of the other pokémon confirmed Spark's fear. It wasn't just him hearing the voice. It was real.

Dr. Dillinger landed daintily on the stone shelf and called the fearow that had carried her there back into his ball. The pockets of her lab coat bulged with pokéballs. She smiled at Spark, and it wasn't her usual cutesy grin. The woman looked utterly deranged as her bloodshot eyes darted wildly to assess the scene. Hypno clung to Spark's legs, paralyzed by fear.

"Let me tell you, Sparky. Retrieving these things was no picnic. But I couldn't let them go to waste," Dillinger said.

For the first time, Spark noticed the blood on her sleeves. His stomach turned again. She'd gone down into the pit to take the pokémon from the grunts who had fallen to their deaths. Spark felt torn. On one hand, he was relieved that the pokémon had been rescued, but on the other…

Dillinger's laugh was raspy and manic. "What's the matter, Spark? No snarky one-liners for me this time?"

The air next to her flickered, and suddenly, a second Dillinger appeared a few feet to the right of the first.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Spark hissed under his breath. Was one of them not enough?

Both Dillingers tilted their heads. "I'm sorry?"

Spark straightened up. He'd been waiting for a moment like this. No, it hadn't come about in the way he'd planned, but he couldn't let the opportunity slip away. Not with his friends lying defenseless next to him. Not after all they'd endured.

"Didn't you get my text, Doc?" Spark asked, forcing a smirk.

The two Dillinger faces soured in unison. "Don't call me that."

"I specifically warned you about Candela, but you just couldn't help yourself," Spark said, stepping closer. "And now you have the nerve to confront me? I'm starting to think you didn't read my heartfelt message."

Dillinger narrowed her eyes and checked over her shoulder. "What the hell are you looking at?"

Spark's blood chilled. He'd assumed the new Dillinger, the one on the right, was the hallucination. Had he been staring into empty air this whole time? His ears warmed with embarrassment.

The Dillingers snickered. "Oh Spark, you're in pretty bad shape, aren't you? Did you knock your head inside of Blanche's ice sculpture? Or is something else going on?"

Sir Slashalot rattled his bristles at Dillinger menacingly. Spark waved him off, and pointed toward Candela and Blanche. The pokémon took the hint and ambled into position near Flicker, ready to play defense if he had to.

The Dillingers suddenly started to move in opposite directions, pacing a slow circle around Spark. "It's pretty wild what Candela pulled off up there, don't you think? At first, I thought she was somehow channeling Moltres' power, but that just made me wonder where the actual birds are. Shouldn't they have come to your rescue by now?"

Spark tried not to look at either iteration of Dillinger. He remained perfectly still, unable to trust his senses. Maybe neither of them were the real deal. He tried to estimate the source of Dillinger's voice, but his stone surroundings threw the sound in strange ways, making it impossible to nail down.

"Unless the birds are already here," Dillinger said, closing the circle tighter.

Spark slipped up and let his eyes jump between the two of them.

"What's the problem, Sparky? Seeing double? You're going mad, aren't you? Just like the original royals," Dillinger said, her voice giddy. "Is that what happened to Blanche and Candela? They finally lost it? Couldn't share their heads with legendary pokémon anymore?"

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out," Spark replied, as coolly as he could.

The Dillingers tossed their hair. "Well, it takes no less than a genius-level intellect to get where I am today."

"Stuck in a hole and covered in the blood of your teammates?"

Both sets of eyes glared daggers at Spark for his comment. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you."

"I thought you liked my one-liners," Spark replied. "But I could be wrong. I don't share your 'genius-level intellect,' after all. Now, are you finished taunting me? Because we're on a tight schedule."

Dillinger scoffed. "You're going to help me escape? Just like that? I had sort of hoped you'd put up more of a fight."

"You're a bit of a masochist, huh? Kinda kinky. I _dig_ it," Spark said, raising his voice to make sure his intended audience caught his meaning.

The two Dillingers sneered in disgust. "Are you threatening me? Please. You don't even know where I am. You can't trust your own eyes."

"I don't have to trust my own eyes. I have someone else I can trust," Spark said.

Sir Slashalot burst from the ground like a torpedo, sending one of the Dillingers flying into the air while the other one flickered out of existence. Spark shook himself free of Hypno and leaped for Dillinger as she fell, pinning her to the ground by the wrists, using his weight to immobilize her torso.

"I am _super_ glad you were paying attention, Sir Slashalot," Spark said. "For a second there, I was worried that I'd been too subtle for you."

The sandshrew huffed, offended by the notion.

"Get off me! I'll tear you apart! I'll rip your guts out through your throat and strangle you with them!" Dillinger roared, bucking and twisting to escape his hold.

"Wow! What happened to all that decorum, Doc?" Spark asked, fighting to stay in control.

"Don't call me 'Doc!'" she screeched, kicking violently out to the side and catching his injured ankle.

Spark flinched, giving her an opening to strike. Dillinger wrested her arm free and clocked the side of his head. Spark saw stars for a second, then felt the buzz in his fingertips, just like he had when he'd shocked Blanche out of cardiac arrest. He tried to pull away, but was too late.

Dillinger's screaming escalated as Spark zapped her, but he managed to let go and sit back before the electricity could do serious damage. The screams faded into a pathetic whimper as she stared at him with those watery, bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Spark reflexively exclaimed.

"D-don't hurt me!" Dillinger squeaked.

Spark didn't like how satisfying it was to hear the terror in her voice. In the span of a second, she'd transformed from vicious to absolutely pitiful. Her cowardly nature had revealed itself.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Calm down," Spark said. He couldn't believe he was speaking so gently to the woman who had ruined so many lives. "I'm going to get you out of here, alright? But there's something I have to do first."

"What is it?" Dillinger panted.

Spark stood slowly, allowing her to sit up. He almost felt sorry for what was about to happen to her. Almost. "Hypno has something he'd like to share with you."

Dr. Dillinger got to her feet, careful to avoid the scattered shards of ice, her face a mask of confusion. Spark nodded to Hypno. It was time.

Hypno stood in front of his former master and placed his fingers against his temples. It had been Spark's idea to do this, and Hypno had eagerly agreed to the idea. He just hoped that Hypno's pain would be worth it.

Dillinger stumbled back and clapped her hands to her head. "What's this? What's happening?!"

"Hypno is sharing everything he's experienced with you, Dr. Dillinger," Spark explained. "He's using your transmitter to share every horrible thing that's happened to him and to his friends under your care."

Dillinger shook her head. "No. No. I don't want to see this."

"It's the cost of a ticket out of the mountain," Spark said, crossing his arms. "And if you think about it, it's not that expensive. You weren't actually there to witness the agony of all the last breaths. You watched tapes of pokémon dying and your shriveled husk of a heart felt nothing. Because you didn't even have the capacity to empathize with the suffering you'd inflicted. All Hypno is doing is giving you a little insight."

Dillinger howled and clutched her skull tighter, her sightless eyes rolling in her head. "Stop! STOP! They're just pokémon! Worthless fucking monsters!"

Hypno hunched over, as if he'd been punched in the gut. Spark clenched his jaw as his chest filled with rage.

"All this research on creating stronger bonds with pokémon, and _that's_ how you think of them? Did it not occur to that genius brain of yours that you don't need diodes and deadly surgeries to communicate with pokémon? That the strongest bonds are forged by love and respect?" Spark demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "Face what you've done, Doctor. Face the fact that you've wasted your life searching for an answer that's been right under your nose all along."

"You're wrong!" Dillinger snapped. "You could never comprehend my brilliance! You will never know true strength!"

Static crackled between Spark's fingers. He couldn't let Zapdos get the better of him, not at such a critical moment.

"You're _weak,_ Doc. If you want to understand strength, look into the faces of the pokémon you've murdered," Spark growled.

Hypno's muscles tensed as he redoubled his efforts to inundate Dr. Dillinger with his memories. Spark wished Hypno didn't have to suffer as well, but the pokémon had wanted this so badly.

Dillinger wailed and shook her head, her hair whipping violently with the motion. "NO! IT HURTS! IT HURTS!"

Spark ignored the pang of sympathy in his heart. "It's just a taste of the damage you've done. If Hypno endured it, so can you."

"I REFUSE!"

Dillinger clawed at the transmitter on the side of her head, digging her nails into her scalp and ripping at the device. Hypno's hands dropped in shock.

"Dillinger, stop!" Spark shouted as she continued tearing at her head, despite the fact that Hypno had clearly stopped transmitting. The static in Spark's fingers grew from a faint buzz to a sharp snapping of electrical currents, apparently reacting to his alarm.

But Dillinger either didn't hear him or didn't care. She yanked one last time and pulled the diode out of her skull with a sickening snap. Long, bloody tendrils dripped from it, and Spark wondered just how deeply implanted the device had been. Spark's head spun, and bile rose in his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. He didn't even know this _could_ happen.

Dillinger no longer looked human. Her face was warped into a ferocious snarl, and her shoulder hung at an odd angle, like she could no longer control her arm. Spark waited for her to collapse, astounded that she could survive such damage. Instead of falling, Dillinger launched forward, swiping a long spike of broken ice from the ground as she ran. Spark's chest exploded with a rush of adrenaline and electricity as the nightmarish shell of a human charged him. Hypno dove out of Dillinger's path, but Spark couldn't move.

He yelled for her to stay back, but the woman was too far gone. Spark caught her by the shoulders and was immediately blinded by the brightest light he'd ever seen. He felt Dillinger's body convulse under his hands as a fatal dose of electricity chased through her system. The air thickened with the bitter stench of burning flesh.

And then it all stopped. Spark's eyes adjusted enough to see Dillinger's charred face almost level with his, the smoke rising from her head, her mouth eternally frozen in an agonized O. She fell backward and thudded to the ground.

All was quiet.

Spark waited for her to move, but she didn't.

It was over.

"No…" he whispered as his knees buckled and he fell into a kneeling position at the dead scientist's feet.

It was never meant to be this way. He'd just wanted to teach her a lesson. This was supposed to honor the memory of everyone Dillinger had harmed. He hadn't meant to do more harm. His heart raced with the aftereffects of the adrenaline, and his breathing turned rapid and shallow as the panic set in.

He'd killed her. It didn't matter how much evil had dwelled in her heart. Dr. Dillinger was human, and Spark had killed her.

Sir Slashalot crept toward him and gingerly nudged his elbow. Spark placed his hand on the sandslash's head, and Sir Slashalot closed his eyes. He had to calm down for the sake of the pokémon. They all needed his kindness and strength.

"Thank you," Spark said, voice cracking. "You did good, Slashy."

Hypno stepped forward and stared at Dillinger's body. A single tear trailed down his face, which he quickly wiped away with the back of his hand.

"Hypno, I'm so sorry," Spark said.

Hypno shook his head and turned away from her. The expression in his eyes was a complicated mix of pain and relief. He sat in front of Spark and lowered his head.

"It's going to be OK," Spark said, as much to himself as to the pokémon around him. "We can't stay here. We have to get Blanche and Candela in the cart and find a way back to the trail, and then…"

He trailed off, losing his words in the fog of his brain. Where had this dizziness come from? The adrenaline? The hyperventilation?

Hypno grabbed his shoulder and pointed frantically at Spark's stomach. Spark looked down and struggled to process what he saw. A spike of ice protruded from the left side of his abdomen. In all the chaos, he'd forgotten the ice in Dillinger's hand. He'd assumed she'd missed. He couldn't even feel it, but he saw the dark bloom of blood spreading across his orange hoodie. His vision began to darken at the edges, and his head lolled weakly.

"Shit," he murmured as he tipped to the side, unconscious before he reached the ground.


	33. Chapter 33

Flicker's frantic whinnying sounded distant and muffled. What was he so upset about? Had something happened to Candela? Candela…

Spark opened his eyes. Though his vision was blurry, he could make out Candela a few feet away, standing upright, gesticulating with her arms as she spoke.

"They can't be gone. I have to finish them myself! They must not die without knowing the pain that I have endured!"

Spark snapped into the present. It wasn't Candela speaking in that raw, wild voice. It was Moltres. Whatever this Candela-Moltres amalgam was, she should not have been back on her feet.

Knowing he had to do something before Candela went full firebird again, Spark tried to sit up. A sharp pain in his gut stopped him, and the memory of the ice spike returned. When he looked down, however, he found the ice had vanished. Melted, maybe? He gingerly touched the bloody hole in his shirt and found another layer of fabric beneath. A bandage?

"Zapdos!"

Spark tensed, which only increased the pain in his side. Candela – Moltres? – had spotted him. Her ponyta whickered nervously and danced out of her way as she marched toward Spark.

"How dare you defend the humans?" she accused. "I ought to turn you and your human pet to ash right now!"

She raised her arms, tiny licks of flame already forming. Spark cast about wildly for a means of defense, but had too little time to act. He'd have to reason with her, remind her that she'd never escape without him, but it was all happening so fast.

Hypno jumped in front of Spark, pendulum swinging. Candela snarled at him, but the flames sizzled out, and her eyelids fluttered. She went down slowly, sinking to her knees first, reaching forward as if she still intended to attack. At last, she couldn't hold out any longer, and flopped to the side. In any other circumstance, Spark might have found it funny.

Satisfied with his work, Hypno turned his attention to Spark. Behind him, Flicker calmed and settled next to Blanche, who still lay unconscious where Spark had left them.

"Are they OK? Blanche, I mean?" Spark asked. Even speaking caused his wound left by the ice to radiate pain.

Flicker's ears twitched and he nosed Blanche's face, angling their head so Spark could see that the frost had melted and color had returned to their features. Though Spark was relieved to see Blanche looking healthier, there was no way to tell if they were trapped in their frozen mindscape or merely passed out. He hoped it was the latter.

As for Candela, he supposed he should be grateful that she was physically capable of storming around and making threats. It meant Moltres hadn't followed through on its threat of cooking her from the inside out. Spark still couldn't believe the bird would turn on her like that. And what had it meant when it accused Zapdos of defending humans? Was it because Spark had attacked Candela when she was on her rampage? Maybe Moltres couldn't differentiate between Spark and Zapdos anymore.

Whatever the case, Candela had been subdued, at least for now. Spark would have to remember to dig out the sedative Waik had gifted them. Hypno had a pretty stellar track record when it came to knocking humans out, but Spark worried that if Moltres took full control again, it might be too much for Hypno to handle on his own.

Which reminded Spark… if Blanche was still out cold, and Candela was still Moltres' puppet, who had dressed his wound?

As if to answer his question, Hypno placed his hand on Spark's forehead, feeling for a temperature. Spark watched in silence as the pokémon rolled up his shirt to check the bandage. Hypno nodded to himself, pleased by the condition of the wrapping.

"You are one amazing pokémon, Hypster," Spark said. "Thank you."

Hypno scratched behind his head bashfully, color rising in his cheeks.

"How do you know first aid?" Spark asked. He had a lot of faith in the intelligence of psychic pokémon, but it surprised him that Hypno knew how to bind a wound. It didn't seem like something the Rockets would have taught him.

Hypno hung his head and averted his gaze. Perhaps it wasn't a matter of being taught the skill so much as having to develop the ability to treat injuries on his own.

"Hypno… did you treat the other pokémon? The ones from the experiments?"

Hypno squeezed his eyes shut, as if the words had physically hurt him.

Spark wanted to slap himself for bringing it up. "I'm sorry, I spoke without thinking. That's kind of a specialty of mine. I'm the champion of putting my foot in my mouth."

The pokémon grunted, and Spark realized after a few seconds that it was a laugh. A very rusty laugh, but a real one.

"OK, bud. We need to get moving," Spark said, bracing himself to sit up.

Hypno immediately pressed Spark's shoulder to the ground, shaking his head vigorously.

"We can't stay here, Hypno," Spark said. "If we stay here, we'll die."

Spark didn't mention the fact that even if they all got out of this pit and climbed the trail, there was still the matter of the door. It was almost funny. They could survive all of this, only to die in the process of opening the way out.

And even if they all got out alive, what then? They'd have to live with all these memories swirling in their heads. All of Team Rocket's cruelty, all the brushes with death, the madness of the birds, the dozens of souls lost to these caverns…

Spark glanced toward where Dillinger had been before he passed out, but she was gone. All that remained was a gathering of pokéballs, presumably the ones she'd scavenged from her fallen teammates.

"Where's Dr. Dillinger?" he asked Hypno, unable to stop the anxious tremor in his voice.

Hypno pointed across the stone platform. Dillinger lay on her back, her arms folded tenderly over her stomach. He must have moved her there while Spark was out. Somehow, the pokémon still carried a strange respect for his former trainer. Hypno gazed at Dillinger for a long while, his eyes watery.

While Hypno was distracted, Spark rolled to his side and pushed himself up. He sucked in sharply as his injury flared up, but he didn't dare disrupt his momentum. He got to a seated position and clasped his arm over his stomach as pain spiked through his body.

Hypno grabbed him by the shoulders again, but Spark wouldn't let himself be moved. With his free arm, he pushed Hypno back.

"It's fine. I'll be fine," he assured Hypno through gritted teeth.

It couldn't be that bad of an injury, could it? As awful as Spark felt in that moment, he was still conscious and talking. The wound was fairly far to the left side of his torso. Another couple inches, and Dillinger would have missed him entirely. If he was lucky, the strike had avoided his vital organs.

Lucky or not, Spark wasn't sure how he was going to get his party safely to the top of the chamber when he could barely sit up straight. He lifted his shirt to see the dark cloth Hypno had bound him with and discovered it to be a scrap of Waik's robe. His fingers hovered over the wrapping as he debated whether it was better to check the wound or leave it be. Fearing that messing with it would either exacerbate the injury or cause him to pass out again, he decided to trust Hypno's handiwork and come back to it later.

"Can you help me up?"

Hypno shuffled his feet uncertainly, but offered one of his thick arms for Spark to hold onto. Spark hauled himself up, grinding his teeth to distract himself from the tight, pinching sensation in his abdomen. He had to catch his breath once he was upright. Or, as upright as he could manage. He leaned heavily on Hypno as he regulated his breathing. Though the pokémon was small for his kind, he was deceptively strong, and seemed nonplused by the extra weight he was supporting. He held Spark's elbow and looked up at him with a worried expression.

"Don't sweat it, Hyppy," Spark said in a thin, reedy voice. "I've had hangovers with worse bites than this. Now then… Will Candela be down for a while?"

Hypno waggled his hand indecisively.

"Is she OK? She's just sleeping, right?"

Hypno nodded and Spark watched the gentle rise and fall of Candela's chest to reassure himself that she was merely unconscious. Though she looked like the Candela Spark had always known, he had to wonder where the real Candela was. When she woke up, would it be as his friend? Or would it be as a crazed legendary pokémon?

"Candela… I'm so sorry this is happening to you," Spark whispered. "Hypno, we need to be ready for when she wakes up. We need to get the cart out of the ice."

Hypno pointed toward Blanche's frozen sphere, which had been eviscerated since Spark had last viewed it. Sir Slashalot posed in front of his creation, radiating confidence but shivering from the prolonged contact with the ice. The globe had been hollowed out so that the cart could be easily accessed and dragged to the ground.

Sir Slashalot bounded up to him, nose twitching. Spark gently stroked his quills, damp from melting ice flakes.

"Nice work," Spark complimented. "Why don't you warm up with Flicker, OK? Come on."

They made their way toward Flicker and Blanche. Spark hated how slowly he moved. His body felt like it was filled with lead, and between that at the stabbing feeling in his gut, all he wanted to do was lie down. But if he did, would he ever get back up?

Hypno guided him to his knees next to Blanche so he could assess their condition. Though they looked less like a morbid ice sculpture than they did before, their brows were pulled together in a grimace. They were suffering, and Spark could only assume why.

"We've got to wake them up. Hypno, please get the cart ready and bring me the duffel bag."

Hypno dipped his head and jogged toward the ice to get to work. Flicker's nostrils flared apprehensively as he and Sir Slashalot watched Spark place his hand – crusted with dirt and dried blood – against Blanche's face. As soon as he did, Dillinger's face flashed through his head, and he instantly pulled away. What if he shocked them? Before, the electricity had only come in emotionally-charged moments, but that last burst had been so strong. He had to play it safe.

"Blanche, wake up," he commanded, hoping the sudden noise might pull them out of it. The louder he spoke, the sharper the pain in his side became. He held his hand to his stomach in an effort to subdue it.

"Slashy, jostle them or something," he said, and the sandslash poked Blanche in the side tentatively.

"With a little more urgency?"

Sir Slashalot drew back a claw and clocked Blanche in the jaw. Spark flinched in surprise and quickly pulled the pokémon back before he could strike again.

"OK! OK! That's enough!" he exclaimed. "That's not what I meant by-"

"Spark?"

Blanche's voice was frail and ragged. Their eyes were half-lidded and foggy, but they lit up when they found Spark. Their chapped lips cracked a listless smile.

"Blanche! How are you feeling? Are you OK?"

The smile flickered and changed into something more desperate. "Why did you pull me out? It's not safe here…"

A bead of sweat rolled down Spark's temple. "What…?"

"I can't stay out here. It's better in the water, with Articuno," Blanche murmured.

"What are you talking about?"

Their eyes fluttered. "I have to go back to the water. I can't be out here. It hurts too much."

Spark grabbed Blanche's arm, as if they might physically disappear. "More than drowning under the ice? Snap out of it, Blanche! Don't you remember what happened last time?"

But their eyes had closed. Spark shook their arm sharply, ignoring the possibility that he could shock them.

"Blanche! If you don't wake up, you could die!"

Blanche moaned and their eyes opened to slits. "Please stop… it hurts…"

Spark breath hitched. "I know, and I'm sorry, but you're not thinking right. You have to stay with me, OK?"

A tear streaked from the corner of Blanche's eye. He'd never seen them quite this vulnerable, not even when he'd carried them through the crystal cavern when they'd been too cold to move. This was something different.

"I can't, Spark. I can't," they whispered.

"Blanche, I need you. I can't do this alone," Spark said, tightening his hold on their arm.

Blanche's eyes closed again. "I'm sorry…"

Spark cupped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the pathetic sound of his shaky breathing, trying to hold back the rush of emotion he was feeling, trying to keep himself from falling apart. He didn't have time to linger with Blanche and force them awake. He didn't think he had the spirit for such an undertaking, either.

He let go of Blanche's arm and sat back. "Flicker. Please watch them. If anything changes, you have to get my attention immediately, OK? If their breathing slows, if they make a noise, anything."

Flicker tossed his mane in confirmation. As intuitive as Spark was with pokémon, he wished he could read the ponyta's mind. How were any of the pokémon handling this? Seeing their trainers in such a state?

Hypno placed the bag next to Spark. Spark thanked him and rummaged through it until he found the vial of Waik's potent sedative. He slipped it in his pocket.

Despite what he'd said to Blanche, Spark knew he wasn't alone. He had his pokémon, and his friends' pokémon, on his side. He could do this. He _had_ to do this.

Spark took a few deep breaths, drawing in strength with each inhale. "OK, guys. I think I know how to get us home. But I'm going to need your help."

§

 **AN** : I hope I'm not ruining the integrity of the fic by reassuring you that there is light at the end of this tunnel. I'm not the sort of person to leave things bleak, especially in a world that already feels very bleak for many people right now. In my little PoGo universe, this is a huge, traumatic, formative event in the leaders' narrative, and will leave them with physical and emotional scars. But it will also allow them to burn brighter in the future. If, of course, they survive to see that future…


	34. Chapter 34

With the assistance of Hypno and Candela's machoke, Brutus, Spark gathered his sorry-looking ensemble in the middle of the stone platform. Blanche and Candela lay side-by-side next to the duffel, which had been purged of unnecessary supplies and stuffed almost to bursting with the pokéballs that had been in Dr. Dillinger's pockets. Rutabaga sat next to Blanche, under strict orders to monitor their condition so Flicker could take a much-deserved break. The cart sat a little ways back. Spark figured they wouldn't need it, and it looked like it had taken some damage from the fall anyway. It still rolled, but wobbled precariously and groaned with each rotation of its wheels. Spark felt an odd kinship with it.

"Nice work, Brutus. We're on the home stretch," Spark said as he called Candela's pokémon back to his ball. He placed the pokéball in his pocket, next to Flicker's pokéball, where the ponyta now rested. Candela's pokémon had truly gone above and beyond the call of duty during this nightmarish adventure, and unfortunately, Spark would have to rely on them once again.

"Kite, can you help me out?"

Spark released Candela's pidgeot, who soared out of her ball with gusto and flew a few laps around the area, scouting it for security, before hovering in front of Spark to await instruction. Kite was a bold, unshakeable sort of pokémon, but Spark could sense a nervousness in her, and though she tried to keep her attention on Spark, her beak occasionally turned to the side so she could look at her trainer.

"Candela's just sleeping, Kite. She'll be OK once we're out of here. We all will be OK," Spark told the pidgeot. It was so much more complicated than that, but Kite needed the reassurance. "All we need to do is get to the top of the chamber. Can you fly us up there?"

Kite chirruped and puffed up the feathers on her chest.

Spark smiled. "I didn't mean to doubt you. I'm not sure what it's going to be like up there. Can you check it out and find a place to land? Then we can go up in shifts."

Kite clicked her beak, and with a mighty beat of her wings, shot upward. Spark watched her shrink as she ascended and realized just how big the space was. This might be a longer process than he'd originally thought, but it was still doable. Kite was fast, even for a pidgeot. Though she'd have to be careful with her cargo, Spark was sure she'd still make good time.

Hypno, who had been standing next to him, in case he started to fall, tugged Spark's sleeve.

"What's up, Hypno? Am I forgetting something?" Spark had a creeping feeling that something was going to go wrong. After all, most things _had_ gone wrong in the past… how long? Few days? It may as well have been months.

Hypno pointed to Dr. Dillinger, and Spark's stomach felt queasy. He didn't want to think about her, and he didn't want Hypno to think about her, but the pokémon clearly still felt something toward her. Dillinger had been the only trainer he'd ever known, as far as Spark knew. As abusive and unforgiveable as she was, Hypno had bonded with her. And now, she was gone.

"Do you want to say goodbye?"

Hypno nodded, but didn't leave Spark's side.

"Do you… want me to come with you?"

Hypno closed his hand around Spark's. Spark wasn't ready for this. He didn't know if he could look her in the face again. But if Hypno needed this from him, it was the least he could do.

Spark let Hypno lead him across the stone, and Spark once again wished he could just lie down. How wonderful it would be to get out of here and lie in the grass again, to see the sky, the sun…

Hypno paused next to Dillinger and bowed his head. Spark waited quietly, looking anywhere but at the unmoving body at his feet. After about a minute had passed, Hypno squeezed Spark's hand and looked up at him, anticipating something.

"Should I say something for her?" Spark offered, hoping he'd misread Hypno's intentions.

Unfortunately for him, Hypno nodded, and Spark couldn't defend himself from the pokémon's misty eyes.

"Uh… OK, give me a moment…" Spark tried to organize his thoughts. Once more, he wondered what exposure Hypno had had to this sort of thing, this semi-funeral for a woman so many would rather simply forget. But of course Hypno had dealt with death before, and perhaps had held a ceremony such as this for Dillinger's victims. Maybe Dillinger didn't deserve this bit of kindness, but Hypno did. After some contemplation, Spark delivered the best eulogy he could come up with, under the circumstances.

"In another world, maybe Dr. Dillinger's life would have been different. Maybe she could have used her mind for good instead of evil. I'd have liked to see that world. But in this world, her ambition turned her into a monster. Maybe it's for the best that she died here, in this place she was so desperate to get to. This way, no one else will be hurt by her. This way, we can all move on."

Spark paused to gauge Hypno's response to his speech. The pokémon kept his head solemnly lowered, which Spark supposed was a good sign.

"I want to wish Dr. Dillinger a peaceful rest, but I can't do that in good conscience. Instead, I wish for her victims to be at peace in the knowledge that she is gone."

Hypno placed his free hand on his face, perhaps to conceal tears.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Dillinger," Spark said, his tone quieter and more intimate than before. "This didn't have to be the end of your story. Maybe you could have changed."

He didn't believe his own words. He'd witnessed the impenetrable blackness of her heart. Her last chance to repent had been when Hypno shared his memories with her, but she'd rejected that chance so violently that even had she survived, there could be no coming back. But Hypno needed that glimmer of hope, that validation for the years he'd spent at her side.

And the pokémon did seem satisfied. He let go of Spark and crouched next to Dillinger's strangely peaceful body. He placed his hand over hers.

As he did, Kite swooped back into the pit and landed a bit clumsily next to Spark. Her feathers were ruffled and crooked, which immediately raised alarms in Spark's head. Hypno picked up on the shift in mood and sprang to attention.

"Kite! Did you find a landing place?"

Kite shook her feathers back into position and hopped from one foot to the other restlessly.

"Can you show me?" Spark pressed.

Kite lowered herself so Spark could climb aboard. She was willing to show him what had flustered her, which Spark had to take as a good sign. Spark limped up to her and, with no small degree of effort, pulled himself onto her back. Suddenly, he wondered if he'd have the strength to hold onto her feathers. His hands didn't grip as tightly as he wanted them to, and every small twist of his body sent bursts of pain through his abdomen. But he needed to assess the situation, and the only way to do that was to see it for himself.

"Rootie, Hypno, can you hold down the fort?" Spark asked.

Hypno clasped his hands apprehensively, but Rutabaga bobbed her head in affirmation. Spark could see the strain in her face, even from across the platform. She was trying to follow his instructions, but she looked ready to bolt into his arms at the drop of a hat. He wanted to take the time to comfort her, show her that he was alright, but their window for survival seemed to close a little more with every passing minute. She'd just have to trust him.

"Thank you! We'll be back in a blink," Spark said, grinning.

Kite took that as an indication that she was cleared for takeoff and blasted upward. Spark held tight to her with all the strength he could muster as she spiraled upward, mercifully keeping her body as parallel to the ground as possible. Up and up they climbed, until Spark couldn't bear to open his eyes and see the deadly distance he would fall if he failed to hold on. He'd have to remind Kite to carry Blanche and Candela in her talons, since they couldn't ride her in their conditions.

Spark's heart jumped as Kite abruptly tilted to the side to adjust for a strong breeze. But why was there wind? Spark thought of the updraft back in the room with the river of magma and rock bridge. It made sense that the extreme temperature would create choppy flight conditions there, but there was no magma here.

He opened his eyes as Kite veered toward the wall of the chamber. Above him, the wind roared and spun, and beyond that, he could barely make out a glowing orb, the twin of the one from the great hall, the one they had used as a portal in the first place. Spark didn't remember there being so much chaos surrounding the first one. At least, not before it had been opened.

Kite landed on the trail, which was about eight feet wide, and sloping rather steeply upward. She tucked herself low to the ground so the wind couldn't knock her loose. Over the edge of the trail, Spark could see hundreds of feet down, to where Blanche's ice sphere was a white dot among navy shadows.

"We're most of the way up," Spark said, mostly to himself, partially to Kite. "At least there's that, right? Just a little bit of hiking, and we'll be at the door. This is fine. We're still fine. It was silly of me to think that maybe, just this one freaking time, things would work in our favor."

Kite watched him out of the corner of her eye, and he immediately felt remorseful.

"I'm sorry, Kite. This is as high as you can safely go, and that's not your fault. Really, it's not much further. Do you think you're strong enough to bring up the cart?"

Kite blinked.

"I'm gonna assume that's a 'yes.' Good. We can do this. Are you ready to bring up the others?"

Kite nodded.

"Great. Be careful with Blanche and Candela, OK? Make sure Candela is totally out before you pick her up. Hypno can help with that," Spark said, carefully sliding off of Kite's back. "In fact, bring Candela up first. I have something that will keep her down."

His knees buckled as he put weight on them, and for a heart-stopping second, he thought he might slip down the trail, pushed by the wind. Spark caught himself with his hands and crawled to the relative safety of the wall, grimacing at the wave of pain the short fall had caused. Impulsively, he grabbed at his wound, and found the covering over it to be warm and wet. He cursed under his breath.

Kite chirped at him, sounding like a much smaller pokémon than she actually was.

"Don't worry, Kite. Just get the others."

Kite lifted her wings, and the wind whisked some of her feathers into the air. As she leapt off, Spark called one final reminder to her.

"And don't forget the bag!"

Once she was out of sight, Spark reclined against the wall, his hand still cupped over the crimson tear in his shirt. He could smell the briny tang of his own blood. He squinted at the corkscrewing trail and reassured himself that the rest of the climb wouldn't be so bad. He could have Brutus pull the cart, and though he didn't think it could hold his full weight, he could at least walk along next to it and use it for support. It wouldn't be fun, but it would be doable. One last push. That's all that was left. No more of the Lost, no more darkness, no more Rockets…

"That was very sweet, what you said about me down there."

Spark nearly choked on his breath. He recognized the voice instantly. How could he have forgotten?

Dr. Dillinger leaned over him, her hands behind her back, her hair whipping in the wind. Her face was clean and white, with no signs of charring, nor of the broken nose Blanche had given her. Even her lab coat was bright and clean, just as it had been when they'd first met.

"You're not real," Spark croaked.

"Of course I'm not real, you dimwit," she spat. "I'm dead. _You_ killed me."

Spark squeezed his eyes tightly shut. "You're a hallucination. I'm imagining you."

Dillinger groaned. "I'm wounded that you'd forget about me so quickly. But not as wounded as you appear to be, am I right? Ugh. I know. It was a weak joke."

Maybe if Spark ignored her, she'd vanish. She was a figment of his imagination, after all. Just a side-effect of sharing his brain with a legendary bird. Nothing to get worked up over.

"You're never going to reach that portal, you know. How much blood can you lose before you pass out? And what happens then? Without you there to stop it, Moltres will wake up and burn you and Blanche and Candela to a crisp. Pitiful. Unless, of course, Hypno steps in to save you again. Poor Spark, always the damsel in distress. But I wouldn't count on any help from that runt."

"Shut. Up," Spark hissed.

"You're the only one doing any talking, Sparky," Dillinger said. "I'm just your imaginary frenemy."

Spark grabbed a hank of his hair and held tight. He had to snap out of this. He couldn't let Dillinger get under his skin from beyond the grave. She wasn't going to win. He'd beaten her at this game of taunts and insults back in the maze, during his very first encounter. This time, she wasn't even a physical entity. Just a memory to be locked away, ignored.

"I know what you're thinking, Spark. I'm in your head, remember? You can't ignore me. I'm part of you. Hell, maybe I'll always be part of you."

"Stop it," Spark blurted.

"Wouldn't that be fun? You and me, together forever. Think of the wonderful things we could do!" Dillinger piped cheerfully. "For example, I could appear outside of your shower, making the same face I made when you electrocuted me. I bet you'd even be able to smell the burning hair. Oh! And I could tell you what I'd do with your pokémon if I had the chance. Picture it: me drilling a hole into Rutabaga's fuzzy little head-"

"SHUT UP!"

Spark doubled over, the force of his outburst causing a wave of overwhelming pain to rush through his body. He jerked as a hand touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes.

Hypno stood in front of him, breathing rapidly, distraught.

"When did…?" Spark couldn't finish the question. His throat felt like it had been shredded from the inside out.

Kite stood over Candela a few feet away. Hypno must have ridden up with her so he could keep an eye on Candela. Spark hated that Rutabaga was alone with Blanche, but he was grateful that Hypno was there to bring him out of the delusion.

"I'm sorry," Spark said hoarsely. "I'm OK. I wasn't yelling at you."

He was so tired of saying that he was OK. He wasn't. And it was patronizing to tell Hypno that he was, he knew that. But he didn't know what else to say. His head felt heavy, and he struggled to keep his neck straight.

"Kite, please get Blanche and Rutabaga. And the cart. And the bag." Spark winced. "I'm sorry I'm putting all this on you."

Kite fluffed her feathers in what was almost a shrug. Then, she dove over the side of the trail.

Spark couldn't look Hypno in the eye. He didn't want to pokémon to know how shaken up he was. Hypno and all the others were relying on him. If Zapdos was protecting him, like Moltres had accused it of, then where was it now? Articuno had more or less abducted Blanche, Moltres had straight-up possessed Candela… So what was Zapdos doing, aside from torturing him with the ghost of a dead villain?

Hypno patted his face somewhat roughly.

"Ow, hey," Spark complained, touching his cold fingertips to the old welt on his cheek. It dawned on him that Hypno had never really been told about what was happening. Surely he'd picked up bits and pieces, but it was about time someone filled in the gaps. "Hypster, I have a lot to explain in not a lot of time. You know how Candela and Blanche aren't themselves right now? It's because of the birds. I'm affected, too. I'm… seeing things."

Hypno angled his head to the side inquisitively.

Spark swallowed, and the taste was coppery and thick. "You remember what happened with Dr. Dillinger, how I couldn't see where she was? It's still happening. I'm still seeing her, hearing her."

Hypno looked away for a moment, processing.

"I know she's not really there. It's just… I don't know. It feels so real," Spark said. "But it's OK. I can ignore her. We're so close!"

Hypno didn't look as pleased as Spark had hoped he'd be. He was doing it again, lying to Hypno. What kind of fool would lie to a psychic pokémon?

"I know, Hyppy. I can't just ignore her. But I've got you, don't I? I can trust you to keep me grounded," Spark said, smiling at Hypno. "You're strong and you're smart, no matter what you've been told. You are something else, Hypno. Something wonderful."

Hypno's eyes lit up, like a fire had been ignited within him.

Kite appeared over the side of the trail again, carrying Blanche in her talons. Rutabaga clung to her back, obviously unhappy with the wind and the height. The flying pokémon landed carefully, draping Blanche onto the stone. Rutabaga jumped from her back and scampered toward Spark. Kite squawked, insulted by her rider's distrust of her aerobatic abilities, and descended back toward the pit to retrieve the bag and cart.

Rutabaga nestled into Spark's arms, and even though it hurt, Spark hugged her tightly. He planted a gentle kiss between her ears, like he'd done when she was a newly-hatched pichu, before she'd even had a name. Hypno watched intently, as if he were studying the interaction.

"Alright, that's all the time we have for being sappy," Spark teased, ruffling Rutabaga's fur until her cheeks sparked in pretend annoyance. "Rootie, I still need you with Blanche for a while. They've been holding steady, but that could change at any moment. Hypno, help me get to Candela. We can't run the risk of her waking up."

Even with Hypno's guiding hands, standing up was harder than before. Spark's body felt heavy and unfamiliar, like it belonged to someone else and he wasn't fully in control of it. He kept himself low, resisting the driving wind, as he made his way to Candela. He got to his knees next to her and pulled Waik's vial from his pocket. Rutabaga curled up next to Blanche's head, blocking their face from the wind, and kept a wary eye on Spark when she thought he wasn't looking.

Spark uncorked the vial and wrinkled his nose at the strong stench, so potent that not even the torrents of air could dissipate it. He'd intended to wait until Candela started to wake, just in case it was dangerous to double-sedate her, but he couldn't trust himself to move fast enough to deliver the dose at the right time. He propped Candela's head up with one hand and tipped the vial toward her lips with the other.

Candela's nose twitched, and before Spark could tilt the contents of the vial into her mouth, her golden eyes burst open. In a flash of motion, Candela's hands shot up and grabbed the neck of Spark's shirt, nearly causing him to drop the solution. Spark let her head fall back against the stone, momentarily dazing her and giving him an opening. He placed his hand near the base of her neck and pressed her to the ground as she started to kick and squirm.

"Candela! If you're in there, listen to me!" Spark shouted.

Candela bared her teeth like a wild pokémon, and Spark shifted his hand up her neck, holding her just beneath her jaw. She choked a little, and the guilt Spark felt was almost unbearable.

"I'm so sorry, Candy," he said. "I have to do this."

Her snarl eased and for the briefest of seconds, her eyes looked human again. Spark thrust the vial to her lips and poured the noxious liquid. The moment of humanity vanished, and Candela thrashed and rocked her head violently in a desperate attempt at evasion. Hypno grabbed her legs before she could use them against Spark, but her arms remained free. She battered Spark's chest as he finished pouring and moved his hand from her throat to her mouth to force her to swallow. The blows were clumsy and weak, and Spark wasn't sure if it was because she was drowsy or because she was holding herself back.

Gradually, her convulsions softened, and her wildfire eyes dimmed and closed. Spark slowly removed his hand from her face and cringed at the red handprint of blood he'd left across her dark skin. Though he was fairly sure it was his blood, not hers, he checked her again for signs of injury.

Once he was satisfied that she was both unconscious and unharmed, he wiped her face as clean as he could get it with his sleeve. Then, he leaned back and sighed heavily. With shaky, rubbery fingers, he pressed the cork back into the vial, which still contained half of its contents. Hopefully, he'd administered the correct dosage.

"It would have been nice to know that this stuff doubles as smelling salts," Spark panted. "At least we can use it again to wake her up once we're outside."

Hypno let go of Candela's legs and squatted next to Spark. As he did, Kite rose over the edge of the trail, pumping her wings with all her might, straining under the load of the small rickshaw and duffel she clutched in her claws. She clattered both objects onto the trail and landed, chest heaving, beak parted to get more air.

"Spectacular, Kite!" Spark cheered, but the act of raising his voice irritated his throat, making him cough. He covered his mouth with the back of his wrist out of polite reflex. With his free hand, he pulled out Kite's pokéball, and the pidgeot eagerly disappeared into it, without him having to say anything.

"Now we just need Brutus, and we're home free," Spark said, digging in his pocket for the machoke's ball. As he pulled it out, his numb, purple-tinged fingers slipped, and the pokéball clunked to the floor and started to roll.

Hypno leaped into action and snatched it up before it could get far, but the shock of what might have happened made Spark's head spin. As he calmed down, Dillinger reappeared, leaning casually against the cart. Spark clenched his fists. He hadn't expected to see her again so soon.

She didn't need to say anything. She merely smiled at him and tapped her fingers against her wrist, pointing to an imaginary watch. The message was all too clear, and Spark was sick of hearing it.

 _You're running out of time._


	35. Chapter 35

Spark felt like he'd been walking for an eternity. All he knew was the rhythm of his steps and ragged breaths, nearly lost in the noise of rushing wind all around him. His hands clung to the side of the cart, cold and slick with sweat. Though the wind made it difficult to keep his eyes open, he found it helped to concentrate on the muscled blue back of Brutus, who was steadily hauling the cart uphill, despite its two human passengers, their hypno overseer, and Spark.

He'd thought about calling Flicker out again, but feared the wind would extinguish the already exhausted ponyta's flames. He'd even considered looking through Team Rocket's pokémon for one that could help, but after everything they'd been through, he wasn't sure they'd be willing – or even able – to assist. All that Spark could do was endure.

"Hypno… update?" Spark requested.

Hypno sat toward the front of the cart, facing backwards so he could monitor both Candela and Blanche, who lay together with their heads toward the back, sheltered from the wind. The setup was disquietingly similar to a funerary procession, with Spark walking alongside the theoretical hearse like a bereft mourner.

Hypno signaled Spark with a reassuring thumbs-up. His friends were still alive. Spark couldn't let himself think of a future in which they weren't.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Sparky. There's still the matter of the portal."

The phantom Dr. Dillinger strolled in front of him, perfectly calm and casual. She inspected her nails as she veered dangerously close to the trail's edge. Not that it mattered to a hallucination.

 _I'm getting bored of you._

Dillinger made an impressed face at him over her shoulder. "Ah, so you finally figured out you can just _think_ at me instead of babbling to yourself like a crazy person?"

 _Is this all you've got, Zapdos? Is your only act an annoying Dr. Dillinger impression?_

Dillinger tsked. "I'm flattered by the accusation, but I'm not Zapdos. I'm you, spiraling into madness, your pathetic little brain failing to cope with the presence of a being so much more powerful than yourself. Honestly, it's astounding you weren't the first to succumb."

 _Guess I'm tougher than I look._

The imaginary scientist threw her head back in an over-the-top bout of laughter. "Oh, Spark, you're a riot. Do you realize that that's the kindest thing you've technically thought about yourself in, gosh, possibly _years_?"

That couldn't be true, could it? It was just his own mind playing games with him, like it had done ever since he was a child. The only difference this time was the surreal circumstance.

"Look up, Spark. You're nearly there. Your final resting place. You always want to go out with a bang, didn't you?"

Spark lifted his head, half expecting that Dillinger was just messing with him again. But not too far up the slope, a globe of erratic energy spun above a small stone landing, just as it had in the great hall. The hum of its electricity filled his chest, even from several dozen feet away. He took a step forward, pulled by the momentum of the cart, and struck something slippery. He went down so fast that he didn't even know he was falling until the he hit the ground.

Spark curled inward, wrapping himself around the throbbing hurt in his stomach. The wobbly-wheeled cart squeaked to a stop, followed by the soft _thup_ of small feet hitting the ground nearby. Spark didn't have the strength to resist as Hypno pushed him onto his back. The pokémon pressed his hands onto Spark's wound, and the pain was enough to send a spray of stars across Spark's vision.

When the stars cleared, he saw Dillinger's face hovering above his, but something was off about it. He'd never seen this expression on her real, living face before. It was a flash of true fear and concern. But why? She wasn't even real.

"Hypno… the cart…" Spark sputtered. The impact coupled with the painful pressure on his injury had winded him. "Watch Blanche and Candela. I'm alright. I just tripped on my ankle brace or something."

Hypno abruptly removed his hands from Spark's side, surprising him. The pokémon held his blood-coated hands up to Spark's face and gave them an emphatic shake. Spark understood immediately the message that Hypno was trying to convey. That was way too much blood.

Spark propped himself up on his elbows and saw the dark trail that coursed from his side all the way down his leg to his left shoe. He was struck by the sickening realization that he'd slipped in his own blood. He knew from experience that he was losing too much too fast.

"How pathetic," Dillinger sneered, the temporary look of sympathy gone from her features. "I can't believe you're going to die so close to the door. Pffft, who am I kidding? Of course I believe that. You're the least competent human being I've ever met. It's perfect that you should die in such an anticlimactic way. I just feel sorry for Blanche and Candela. If it had been either of them in this position, maybe you'd all have had a chance. But no. It had to be _you._ "

Something clicked inside of Spark's head. He'd been thinking of his relationship with this Dillinger proxy all wrong. Despite knowing that she was fake, he had been treating their conversation like a rematch of their first encounter. But this was something new, and this Dillinger wasn't the one who had tortured him in that dark maze. That fearful look on her face when he fell had been _his_ fear. He wasn't ready to die like this, not after fighting so hard. There was no way he was leaving his friends behind. He had to stop talking to a ghost and start talking to himself.

"Yes, it _did_ have to be me," Spark snapped, causing Hypno to jump back in alarm.

Dr. Dillinger flinched as well. "What?"

Spark turned to Hypno. "This is going to get very strange very quickly, but I'm about to have an argument with myself, and I promise I know what I'm doing. Can you trust me?"

Hypno hesitated, but reluctantly nodded.

"That's right, Spark. Just give in to the delusion. What a terrific idea," Dillinger snipped sarcastically.

"I'm not giving in," Spark said. "That ancient story, the one with the royals and the birds and the three nations… it said that one of the royals lost his ability to see the truth. But I'm seeing a _lot_ of truth right now."

The vision of Dillinger flickered like a guttering candle. "You call shouting at a hallucination 'seeing truth'? You're worse off than I thought."

Spark laughed, even though it hurt his raw throat. "Why are you doing this? For once in my life, why can't you be on my side?"

Dillinger crossed her arms defensively, suddenly looking a bit translucent. "You're not making any sense. Why would I ever be on your side?"

"Because, as you said yourself, you're not Dr. Dillinger," Spark said. The thrum of energy he felt in his chest expanded, threading electricity through his body, and suddenly, he could stand up on his own. Hypno stepped back to give him room, but kept his bloodied hands raised, prepared to catch him should he fall.

Spark locked eyes with Dillinger. "I know _exactly_ who you are."

The image of Dillinger warped and blurred, like a smoke ring breaking apart and fading into the air. The smoke reconstituted itself into something smaller, lighter. Where the scientist had been, a little boy now stood. His haystack hair stuck out at whimsical angles, and his pale skin was dotted with constellations of freckles. His mouth was open just enough to see the gaps of missing baby teeth. His blue eyes matched Spark's perfectly, and shone brightly with welling tears.

"As I was saying," Spark said to his miniature doppelganger, "it _did_ have to be me. I was the one who was smart and strong enough to survive this long, and I'm sure as hell not quitting now. Blanche and Candela are lucky that I'm the one who's still standing. Do you know why that is?"

The little Spark shook his head. He looked terrified.

"Because Blanche would have analyzed this situation and baulked at the impossible odds. Because Candela would have panicked when faced with her own weakness. But I am intimately familiar with feeling weak and inadequate, and every time I succeed it feels like I'm doing the impossible. In other words, this is my time to shine."

Spark gripped the side of the cart and pushed forward. Brutus, despite looking utterly baffled by what was happening, took Spark's cue and started pulling again. Hypno climbed into the cart and scanned Blanche and Candela for changes. He flashed Spark another thumbs-up, which filled Spark with renewed determination.

"You were right about one thing," Spark continued as he marched forward. The boy scampered ahead, tripping over himself. "You're always going to be with me. Somewhere in my soul, I'll always be the scared little kid who feels everything too intensely and cares so much that it hurts. But I'm so much more than that."

He picked up the pace, and Brutus walked faster to match it. The closer they got to the stone landing, the windier the conditions became, and the louder the hum of the portal sounded.

"I am the leader of Team Instinct, and I'm here to save the fucking day!" Spark shouted.

Hypno covered his mouth, taken aback by his language.

"Pardon the swearing, Hypster," Spark said. "Got a little heated while yelling at my imaginary mini-me, which is apparently the manifestation of my disordered thinking, rampant anxiety, and crippling self-doubt. You know how it is."

Hypno shook his head slowly, indicating that he did _not_ know how it was.

"Sorry, guys. My little psychotic-break-slash-pep-talk left me sorta punchy," Spark admitted.

He could see the fear in the furtive glances that Brutus and Hypno cast his way as he walked. He hadn't meant to scare them. Really, he'd intended to scare himself. That, at least, had been a success. Little Spark was nowhere to be seen.

"Look, we're nearly there. We're almost back in the sunlight," Spark said, smiling, hoping he didn't look too ghoulish. He couldn't quite feel his face. It sat over his skull like a rubber mask.

Hypno waved his bloody hands at Spark again, brows knit in frustration.

"Trust me, Hypno. I haven't forgotten about that," Spark said.

But the truth was, he nearly _had_ forgotten about the weeping puncture wound in his stomach. He barely felt it now. He barely felt _anything_ other than the swell of energy around his heart. Was that caused by the proximity of the portal? Was it Zapdos? Was it the euphoric high of imminent death?

It hardly mattered to Spark. He wasn't going to die. He couldn't do that to Candela and Blanche. It was departure from how he'd felt the last time he'd nearly bled to death, but his perspective had shifted since then. He _really_ needed to cut down on all the nearly dying stuff. It was getting out of hand.

Hypno snapped his fingers next to Spark's ear, jolting him out of his loopy state for a moment. The cart had reached the flat rock shelf without Spark noticing. He gazed up at the spinning, sparking, gale-starting orb hanging 20 feet above him, the closest thing to a sun he'd seen in days.

Spark touched his fingertips to the soaked strip of fabric around his middle. Maybe he didn't feel it, but that didn't mean he was safe from the wound. He was riding some sort of adrenaline high, and he had to make the most of it before his resources ran out. He couldn't let his thoughts wander again.

"Hypno, I need you to keep me on task," Spark instructed, letting go of the cart. "Brutus, can you unload Candela and Blanche?"

Brutus lowered the rickshaw's handles and got to work, gently scooping Candela out of the cart first. She looked small in his hands, like a child who had fallen asleep on the couch and was being carried to bed by her parent.

Hypno followed Spark around the side of the cart, wringing his hands. Spark pulled out the duffel bag and dug through it until he found the shard-like key that had settled to the bottom. As the blue and orange light of the portal glinted off of it, the reality set in. In spite of all his optimism about saving the day, Spark wondered if he was living the last few minutes of his life. He hadn't even given Rutabaga a proper goodbye before he returned her to her ball. She'd been so reluctant to go, but Spark hadn't wanted to overburden the cart so had insisted that she stay in her pokéball instead. What if that was the last time he saw her?

Hypno pulled on Spark's shirt.

"Right, right, I'm here, I'm focused," Spark muttered. There was no time to hesitate.

Brutus placed Blanche next to Candela on the ground and stood aside as Spark approached.

"I don't know what's going to happen when the portal opens," Spark said as he knelt next to Blanche. "But however this goes down, we need to make sure to get everyone out. If I'm not able to help, please remember to take the other pokémon through the portal with you. The ones in their pokéballs. Alright?"

Brutus grunted in somber acknowledgment.

Spark drew a deep breath. This was it. This was what everything had been leading up to. They were either on their way home, or…

He pressed the key into Blanche's limp hand.

Nothing happened.

"This is how it went before, right? The three of us, the birds, Blanche holding the key…"

Spark lifted Blanche's hand and pointed the key at the orb above them, waiting for the telltale snaps of electricity to form between it and the portal. Blanche hadn't been able to resist the portal's pull before, and had opened the door so naturally, despite not wanting to. So what was the problem now?

"Do you think they need to be awake?" Spark asked Brutus and Hypno.

Both pokémon shrugged. They looked so tired, so afraid.

"Let's give it a try. Brutus, can you restrain Candela? She's not going to be herself when she wakes up. It might be scary, but if we play our cards right, she won't be like that for long," Spark said.

Brutus crouched behind his trainer and sat her upright, gently cradling her head. He halfheartedly held her wrists behind her back and waited for further instruction.

"Hypno, you're in charge of waking Blanche. Are you ready?"

The pokémon nodded, their eyes narrowed against the relentless wind.

Spark swallowed. "Here we go."

He withdrew Waik's vial from his jacket and dislodged the cork with his thumb. He maneuvered to Candela's side and held the glass just below her nose. Her lips twitched and her nose wrinkled. Next to him, Hypno had pushed Blanche into a seated position and was trying to rouse them by manually lifting their eyelids.

"Come on, Candy," Spark coaxed. His hand trembled so severely that he worried he'd drop the vial before Candela could wake up.

With a low groan, Candela came to. She glowered groggily at Spark. "…You drugged me."

Spark smiled. "Yeah. A little bit. I'll make it up to you later."

Candela jerked forward, intending to attack again, but was held back by Brutus. She struggled against his hold, her confusion turning swiftly to wrath.

"Let go of me! How dare you interfere?" she growled at Brutus.

"Ignore her, Brutus," Spark said. "How's Blanche coming, Hypno?"

Blanche's eyes were open, but once again unfocused and distant. Spark gestured to Hypno to lift their hand. As he did, a small tendril of electricity jumped from the portal to the key. It was progress, certainly, but not nearly enough. Blanche couldn't keep their head up without Hypno's help.

"Please… I'm safe… inside," Blanche mumbled, as if talking in their sleep.

"You'll be nothing but charcoal when I'm through with you!" Candela roared.

"Can you two broken records keep it together for just a second?" Spark asked, more annoyed than threatened by Candela's claim. He joined Hypno in holding Blanche's hand toward the portal. Another few flickers of energy, and then nothing.

Suddenly, Brutus let go of Candela, shaking his steaming hands. She'd burned him, and was wasting no time in turning her rage toward Spark. Spark dropped Blanche's arm and grabbed Candela's short hair to hold her back before she could really get moving. He thrust the vial into her mouth has she clawed at his shirt. She fought for a moment, then slumped to the ground.

Spark's heart felt like a scrap of paper fluttering in the breeze, thin and rapid and fragile. The empty vial slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. He hurriedly checked himself for burns, but Candela had only struck his clothes, leaving a couple singed handprints but no real damage.

"Brutus, you OK?"

Brutus tucked his hands under his arms but nodded stiffly.

"It wasn't Candela. Remember that. She would never hurt you," Spark said, hoping his words weren't falling on deaf ears.

Hypno tapped his shoulder and pointed at Blanche, who had passed out again, the key dangling from their loose fingers. Spark dragged his hands down his cold, sweat-dampened face. This wasn't going to work. If he woke Candela up again, he'd have to hope Hypno still had it in him to knock her out before she could roast everyone. Blanche posed even more of a problem. How was he supposed to keep them fully awake while dodging an increasingly outraged Candela? Or should he call her Moltres? Moltrela? Candoltres? Maybe Blanche was already past the point of being able to fully awaken anyway.

The birds were to blame. Articuno was dragging Blanche into their own mind, and Moltres had successfully commandeered Candela's body. Did they even know how close they were to escaping? Couldn't they see that they were dooming themselves?

Spark's attention wandered to the duffel bag, sitting open by the cart. The metal circlets glimmered in the fluctuating glow of the portal. An idea took form in Spark's mind as he recalled how tame Moltres had been in Candela's mindscape. It hadn't seemed crazed in there, just tired, hurt. Maybe _that_ Moltres – and similarly, that Articuno – would be able to listen to reason.

"Hypno… do you know how to work a communicator?"

Hypno pointed at himself in surprise, as if to say: _who, me?_

"Yeah, you, buddy," Spark said. "I have an idea, and like all my ideas, you're probably not going to like it."


	36. Chapter 36

Candela's mom had a funny way of explaining thunder.

"It's nothing to be afraid of," she said. "It's just an old giant, rolling his potato wagon over a bridge in the sky. Doesn't it sound that way?"

It did sound that way, like a heavy cart rumbling over a wooden bridge somewhere in the clouds. Spark, Blanche, and Candela were too old to believe such a story, but as they stood on Candela's porch that summer afternoon, the line between the ordinary and extraordinary blurred.

Spark remembered the dusty smell of rain slapping against warm sidewalks and the way the water painted the world with darker, richer tones. The day had been swelteringly hot, but the storm had carried with it a welcome coolness. The three children sipped soda from cold bottles and watched the sky for darts of lightning.

"That's impossible, Dr. Violle" Blanche said.

It was unusual for them to speak up, especially in front of an adult. They held their soda tightly in their sun-browned hands and stared at Candela's mother in defiance.

"Look up there and see for yourself," Candela's mom – Dr. Violle, to polite guests – said. "You can see the tracks across the sky."

Sure enough, the clouds had formed wide furrows, just like an enormous potato wagon might have produced. For a second, Spark imagined he could see the giant up there, plodding across the clouds with his cart.

Candela rolled her eyes as dramatically as she could. "Mom, knock it off. We're not falling for that."

Dr. Violle laughed. "OK, so maybe I can't back up my giant theory with science. Here's something you might find more practical and logic-based. I want you to watch for lightning, and then count the seconds until you hear thunder."

The children waited for a bold flash of light, and counted silently. _1, 2, 3, 4, 5…_

After the thunder boomed, Blanche was the first to speak.

"Ten seconds."

"Good," Dr. Violle said. "We can guess how far away that lightning was by how long it took for us to hear the thunder. If it takes five seconds for the sound to travel one mile, how many miles away was the lightning?"

Blanche's lips moved quietly for a moment as they puzzled it out. "Two miles!"

Dr. Violle nodded. "Right. Now, two miles might seem like a long way, but just because lightning struck there first, doesn't mean it won't strike here next. We must always be careful."

Those last words were about something other than the storm they all watched from the porch that day. Even as a young boy, Spark had sensed another layer of meaning there, given away by the fading smile on Dr. Violle's face and the way she'd paused for just a millisecond too long before the end of the sentence, like another thought was trying to push its way in while she spoke. Her face reminded Spark of a weathered tree trunk, wonderfully dark and expressive but too crisscrossed with worry-lines for so young a person. She had endured storms larger than Spark could comprehend, and she knew that not every pattern could be predicted, and not every disaster could be avoided.

A violent roar of thunder banished the memory from Spark's mind. He was no longer a little boy on his friend's porch. Now, the adult Spark stood in a downpour as lightning split the sky above him. The boom followed too quickly, and he didn't have to count the seconds to determine how dangerously close the strikes were.

Though it was still night in his mindscape, the wreckage of Spark's imaginary power plant was lit in sharp flashes by the nearly constant explosions of lightning. Poles leaned into each other, creaking and sparking, and wires snapped like feral ekans against the concrete. The rain slanted sideways in the wind, switching directions without warning, buffeting Spark and causing him to stumble.

It had worked. He'd tried to go into his own head instead of reaching out toward Hypno, and it had worked. But how was he supposed to find Candela and Blanche from here? This didn't look like the meeting place Waik had arranged before. It was all power plant, as far as the eye could see.

Suddenly, a yellow blur descended from the sky, landing heavily next to Spark. Spark flinched, but didn't run from the great electric pokémon that stood partially over him, its wings extended to shield him from the elements.

"Zapdos! You're OK!" Spark shouted over the roar of the gale.

 _No time. We must hurry._

The words had popped into Spark's head, but he hadn't actually thought them. He stared at Zapdos, realizing that the thought had belonged to the pokémon, not himself. Zapdos was talking to him.

"Right, we have to hurry," Spark agreed, trying to roll with this new information as casually as he could. "But I can't see anything other than this power plant. Where is Candela's field? And Blanche's snow?"

Rather than answering with the same thought-speak it had used before, Zapdos tucked its wings close and huddled low against the ground. Spark covered his ears as a particularly massive roll of thunder sounded.

"You want me to ride you? In this storm? I mean, I know it's all in my head… literally… but are you sure?"

 _No time_.

Spark couldn't argue with that, considering he'd told Hypno to remove the circlets after 15 minutes. He climbed aboard the giant bird's back, his body (or this imagined version of it) unencumbered by injury or exhaustion. Zapdos' feathers were stiff and sharp, a contrast to Kite's soft plumage. He could feel the snaps of static zipping between the feathers, prickling his hands and legs, even through his clothes.

Zapdos ran a few steps before lifting into the air. It flew low to the ground, swinging out of the way of dangling powerlines and crumbling steel towers. Spark pressed himself close to the bird's back, squinting against the rain, searching for grass or ice or anything other than stormy darkness.

The world began to warp around him, melting like wax in sunlight, reshaping into something new. Spark buried his fingers in Zapdos' plumage, afraid of what would happen should he slip off. The gray and purple of his nighttime world burst into red and orange flame. Suddenly, he was somewhere entirely different, choking on hot, thick air beneath a smoke-blackened sky. His eyes burned, but he forced himself to keep them open as Zapdos soared over a field that had been overtaken by wildfire.

This was Candela's mind. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew it to be true. The fire Waik had pointed to in the distance had finally conquered the whole area, scarring the earth with ravenous flames where there should have been wildflowers. Zapdos skimmed inches above the highest blazes, heading toward a patch of scorched soil and the long-necked bird that curled in its center.

When it was close enough, Zapdos angled down for a landing, its talons raising a cloud of soot when they struck the ground. Moltres stirred, and in doing so, revealed the small, white-coated figure tucked beneath its body. Candela lay dangerously still, and her body was twisted in an unnatural position that set Spark's heart racing.

Spark jumped from Zapdos' back, covering his mouth to protect it from the ash that floated up around him, and jogged toward Candela. Before he could make it more than three steps, Moltres reared its head and screeched at him.

 _STAY AWAY!_

The thought stung his brain like a brand. It had to be Moltres, not Zapdos, communicating with him now. Spark slowed, but didn't quite stop.

"I'm just trying to help. She looks hurt."

 _She is fine! She is safe with me!_

Moltres' chest expanded with fast, deep breaths. Its pupils were constricted with fear and rage, but it wasn't attacking. Perhaps it didn't have the strength necessary to fight.

"Really? You think she's safe with you? Because last I heard, you were planning to burn her from the inside out," Spark snapped, losing his patience with the mercurial pokémon.

 _No. No! I would never do that. Never!_

Spark paused and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. Er, thinking? Sensing?

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but you _did_ do that. Don't you remember Hulking out on Team Rocket?"

Moltres hissed and clacked its beak.

 _Candela needed me, needed my strength. I gave it to her. But something went wrong. I don't remember what happened. I only remember our fury._

"You went full-on dark side, that's what happened!" Spark exclaimed.

Moltres made a trilling noise. _I don't understand._

Right. Legendary pokémon probably weren't all that into Star Wars. "Candela's knocked out right now, yeah? Every time she wakes up, there you are, ready to go on a murderous rampage. Earlier, you thought I was Zapdos, and accused me – er, it – of defending humans, presumably because I interrupted your killing spree. From what I can tell, when you're awake, you're completely out of your mind with rage."

The firebird lowered its head. _I only wanted to help her. I gave her everything, but maybe it was too much…_

To some extent, Spark was relieved. This was the Moltres he'd been looking for. Even so, he wasn't in the clear yet.

"I want to get her out of here, but I need your help to do that," he said. "You have to separate yourself from Candela. When you're together, you can't control yourself. You have to let her wake up without you."

 _I've tried, but I can't. When she's awake, I'm awake. I have to go with her._

Damn. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Spark that even if Moltres was relatively sane in Candela's mindscape, it couldn't necessarily detach from her at will. Perhaps there was another way to separate the two.

Behind him, Zapdos shook fallen ash out of its wings. If Zapdos could leave Spark's mind, then maybe Moltres could leave Candela's.

"So, if I'm understanding this right, when Candela wakes up, she takes you with her, and you have no choice in the matter. Do you think it's possible for you to leave her first? By coming with me instead, for example?"

 _Coming with you where?_

Spark fidgeted. "Well, uh, to _my_ head, I guess. Seems to me that if you don't try to give me your strength like you did with Candela, then we won't get stuck together. Then she can wake up on her own, and we can open the door without you going postal on us."

Zapdos leaned forward and plucked at Spark's jacket. _This is too risky. Do you intend to do this with Articuno, too?_

Spark patted Zapdos' beak. "You're more neurotic than I thought you'd be. But yes, I'll do the same with Articuno if it's in a similar position. Everything we do from here on out will be risky."

Moltres readjusted its position over Candela. _Look at the destruction one of us can cause in the mind of a single human. You can't last much longer with Zapdos alone, much less with Articuno and me as well._

"I won't need to last long," Spark said. "Just long enough to open the door and step through. It will be a matter of seconds. Then you can all bail out, and we all go home happy. Besides, we humans may die anyway."

Both birds stiffened.

"Look, it is what it is," Spark said, combing his fingers through his choppy hair. "That's not what I want to happen. Ideally, we all survive, and I tough out having extra roommates in my brain-pan for just long enough to get through the portal."

Moltres and Zapdos looked at each other, and Spark sensed that they were holding a conversation without him. He let them continue for a while, trying to conceal his frustration with being left out. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't think I can handle it, do you?" he asked, a hint of accusation coloring his words. "After everything I've endured in this hellhole, you still don't think I have the strength to pull this off?"

Zapdos bobbed its head. _There is a chance you will die._

Spark scoffed. "There's a chance we _all_ will, which is why we have to try this. If it's any reassurance, I don't intend to die easily. If Candela and Blanche live, then I'll live, too. Because they're going to need me, and I'm not going to let them face the future alone."

Spark strode forward, and instead of hissing and snapping at him, Moltres stood and moved back so he could crouch next to Candela. He straightened her shoulders and hips, arranging her so she no longer looked so unnaturally bent. With his thumb, he rubbed away a smudge of soot from her cheek. She remained perfectly motionless.

"All my life, Candela has been my beacon of light," Spark murmured. "She's brave when I'm afraid, strong when I'm weak, and warm when the rest of the world seems so cold. I can't disappear on her now. She's the type of person who stubbornly clings to guilt, you know? Even though the terrible things that happened down here aren't her fault, she's going to blame herself, and she's not going to know what to do with all of that grief and pain. That's just how she is. Her heart is too big for her chest, and I don't think she even knows it."

Moltres waited silently for him to continue, its keen eyes looking uncharacteristically soft.

"I can't let her lose another brother, and I'm afraid that Blanche can't be there for her the way I can. I'm scared that Blanche is going to build a fortress around all the soft, messy, wonderful human pieces of themself and disappear behind a mask if I'm not there to help them. If I die, I condemn them both."

Spark stood up, brushed the ash from his pants, and started toward Zapdos. "Maybe I'm thinking too highly of myself. All I know is that if I lost either of them, a chunk of my soul would be lost, too. I can only assume they'd feel the same way if I died. So, I will do everything in my power to survive, because this isn't just about me. It's about all of us. It's about Professor Willow. It's about Rutabaga and Flicker and Resolute and Hypno and every other pokémon we carry with us."

Spark swung onto Zapdos' back. "It's about getting home. Will you help me get us there?"

Moltres straightened to its full height, its flames filling out and burning brighter, hotter.

 _We will._

"Then we can't waste any more time," Spark said. "We have to find Articuno."

§

The wildfire terrain abruptly gave way to endless snow as the two legendary birds flew side by side. Spark used one hand to shield his eyes from the glaring whiteness below, but it was Zapdos that spotted Articuno first. Zapdos circled down toward a snow-covered lump in the middle of a clearing and landed several yards away. The ice beneath it creaked, but didn't give. Moltres played it safe and hovered some distance away, having the common sense not to bring its heat too close to the frozen lake.

Spark dismounted and shuffled forward, trying to evenly distribute his weight on the slick ice. The lump shifted, dislodging a clump of settled snow to reveal blue plumage. Spark immediately scanned the bird's feet, searching for a sign of Blanche.

"Articuno… are they under the ice?"

Articuno moved its head just enough for the snow that had collected there to fall away so it could inspect Spark. Its thoughts pierced Spark's mind like an icicle through his temple.

 _They are protected there. They wish to be there._

Spark had never expected the legendary birds to be this aggravating. Maybe it was because they weren't in their right minds, or maybe it was because Spark was physically and emotionally exhausted, but he was having trouble tolerating them.

"You're seriously telling me that Blanche _wants_ to be down there, drowning? Not only that, but you think they're protected? You're killing them!"

Articuno didn't so much as blink.

Spark clasped his hands behind his neck. He couldn't fly off the handle like that. He had to remain in control of the situation. "I get what you're trying to do, OK? You want to help Blanche, and to you, that means locking them inside themself, away from all the ugliness of the real world. That's how Blanche naturally copes, though usually not this literally. But right now, it's hurting them."

 _You do not understand. To live is to suffer. I can protect them from the pain of living._

Spark checked for a reaction from Zapdos and Moltres, but both birds were unreadable. "Calm down, Your Royal Edginess. Don't you think that's a little over-simplified?"

 _I care only for their well-being. I am saving them._

"Is that right?" Spark asked through his teeth. "You know what I found interesting about how you and Blanche met? Blanche told me they saw you watching from a tree after they were pulled from the ice. You were there the whole time, yet you did nothing! You were content to sit by and watch as a child drowned! Is that what you call saving someone? They could have died that day! Hell, they could die _this_ day!"

 _I did save them that day._

Spark laughed. "Right, yeah, of course you did."

 _It had to be you._

The familiar words pinged through Spark's brain. "What?"

Articuno lifted its head, letting the snow cascade down its neck. It leveled its gaze at Spark. _Candela saved them. You saved them. They needed you, not me. It had to be you, or they would have been lost. Not dead, perhaps, but not living, either._

A bitter wind rustled Spark's hair as the words sunk in. "I thought you said that to live is to suffer…"

 _I thought you accused me of over-simplifying things._

Spark tilted his head slightly and smirked. "You are one tricksy Hobbit, aren't you?"

 _I do not know what a Hobbit is._

"I gotta knock it off with the references," Spark muttered to himself. "What are you getting at, Articuno? Unlike Blanche, I'm no good at riddles. You'll have to spell it out for me."

 _I know what you want to do. It is the correct thing to do, as Blanche refuses to leave me. I must leave them._

So, it wasn't that Articuno was dragging Blanche down. Blanche was doing this to themself. The thought left a sour taste in Spark's mouth, but he had to press on. They could talk it all out once they were on the other side. And, preferably, safely patched up and recovering.

"Great! Let's get moving, then!" Spark announced, already edging back toward Zapdos.

 _Wait._

Spark slipped on the ice and flailed his arms to regain his balance. "Arty, we're really on a tight sched-"

 _I will go with you to protect Blanche, but ultimately, their fate is in your hands. Do you understand what I am saying to you?_

Spark turned back to Articuno, meeting its cold eyes. "I understand."

Maybe the old Spark wouldn't have cared if he lived or died, but he wasn't the same man as he was when he entered this mountain. He had people relying on him, and not just to open the portal home. He couldn't be selfish or self-destructing, not when his friends needed him so much. As Articuno said, living could be painful. It was Spark's duty to be there to alleviate that pain, not cause more of it.

Zapdos rested its beak on Spark's shoulder. The gesture was both comforting and intimidating, and it signaled to Spark that it was time to go.

He pulled himself onto Zapdos' back and paused, his attention lingering on the patch of ice Articuno stood over and the shadowy figure frozen below the surface.

"I'll see you on the other side, Blanche," Spark whispered.

The three legendary birds took to the sky and vanished into the falling snow.

§

 **AN:** Jules Violle created the first measure of light intensity in 1881, which he called the Violle (come on, you'd name it after yourself, too). The Violle was replaced by the candela in the mid-20th century. The joule is a unit of energy, not light (though it's sometimes used to explain the energy required to power a lightbulb). It can also describe the heat that's dissipated when electricity passes through something. So, there you have it. Candela's family. I struggled with last names for these characters and almost didn't include them… But for the record, Spark's last name is Volta (Volt Academy is derived from this), after Alessandro Volta, a pioneer of electrical research. Blanche's last name is Kelvin, after the absolute measure of temperature (because I'm sure Blanche admires its mathematical functionality, unlike that messy Celsius stuff where you have to consider negative numbers in your calculations).

Also, some background on the potato wagon in the sky, because apparently not everyone knows this little folktale. I spent some of my earliest years on an Air Force base in Texas, and I have vivid memories of standing behind the screen door of the porch, listening to the thunder. My dad, a doctor and a very serious man in general, told me about the "tater wagon" rattling through the clouds, and I absolutely believed him. To this day, I love sitting on the porch during storms, listening for falling potatoes and old wagon wheels…


	37. Chapter 37

Candela's dreams were fevered and dark, and she couldn't wake from them. She dreamed of falling rocks and echoing screams. She dreamed of a heat so intense that it made her want to peel away her own skin. She dreamed of Spark speaking to her, saying something she couldn't quite hear. She dreamed of her mother.

When she finally began to resurface, she couldn't tell dream from reality. She saw Brutus's face leaning over her and a spinning star beyond him, one she'd seen somewhere before. Her skin felt raw and itchy, like she'd been standing too close to a bonfire. Had she been attacked? Had Team Rocket won?

Candela sat up, which spooked Brutus. Why was he so jumpy? And what was with all the wind and bright lights? Were they still fighting the Rockets?

"Candela…"

The voice was so weak that she almost missed it. Blanche was curled next to her, one arm wrapped around their stomach, the other extended to point at something ahead of them. Candela followed their gaze to a lone figure standing beneath the star.

"Spark?" Candela's voice was rough and dry. "What's going on? Where are we?"

But even before she'd said it, she'd figured it out. They'd made it to the portal… but how? The last thing she remembered was Team Rocket marching across the floor of the magma chamber. She vaguely recalled a battle… or had that been a dream?

She glanced around for Team Rocket, but found no sign of them. Instead, she discovered Hypno a few feet away, his hands gripping his triangular ears in distress, his eyes glued to Spark's back. Candela started to call to him, but was distracted by the bands of fire that flared to life around her arms, her chest, her head. Next to her, frost expanded across Blanche's skin, overflowing onto the ground around them, etching white fractals over the stone.

Electricity snapped and flashed around Spark's body, burning brightest in the middle of his back. Candela held her breath as something strange took form there. At first, it resembled a flower composed of light and fire, but as it unfolded, it became unmistakably wing-like. Like the sphere above, the wings were built of lightning and flame and ice, ever-shifting and yet remarkably constant.

Candela wanted to cry out, to ask Spark what was happening, why he wasn't answering her, but her tongue wouldn't obey. She was transfixed by the portal, and could feel her strength being pulled into it, fueling it. Blanche whimpered and tightened their ice-encrusted fists. Though she couldn't tear her gaze away from the sphere, she could see Hypno in the corner of her eye as he shouldered the familiar, battle-weary duffel bag.

The elemental orb split apart and spilled downward, shaping a tall, black chasm. The air around Candela vibrated with the new and powerful energy. She barely felt Brutus slip his arm around her waist. Suddenly, all she could think of was Waik's prophecy. The door had been opened, but did that mean they were saved?

Spark turned toward her, and for the first time, Candela realized his feet weren't touching the ground. He levitated, perfectly framed by the black door and the massive wings that expanded behind him like nebulae. His eyes burned white and sightless within his expressionless face.

"Go," he said with a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

As frightened and confused and awestruck as she was, Candela listened. She allowed Brutus to lift herself and Blanche to their feet. Her legs held firm beneath her. She could move on her own. She wasn't dead. At least, not yet.

"Brutus, carry them," Candela instructed, nodding toward Blanche, who sagged against the machoke for support.

As Brutus gathered Blanche into his arms, Candela ran toward Spark. She slid to a stop four feet in front of him, blocked from getting any closer by a wave of searing heat.

"We'll go together, OK?" She nearly had to scream to be heard above the thunder and roar of the gaping portal.

Spark dipped his head in what Candela assumed was a nod. The motion was strained and unnatural, like it had taken tremendous strength to achieve. She wanted to grab his hand, but she could feel heat blisters forming on her arms just from being this close. She stepped back before she could do further damage to her skin.

Brutus nudged Candela from behind, a silent question. Whatever was happening with Spark, Candela had a feeling it was neither good nor sustainable. She had to move quickly.

"Go through, Brutus," Candela said. "I'll be right behind you."

Brutus held Blanche tighter to his broad chest, and for a second, Candela thought he wouldn't go. His eyes betrayed a fear Candela had hoped none of her pokémon would ever know.

"Please, Brutus," she said, a bit softer.

The machoke squared his jaw, turned away from Candela, and passed through the dark veil of the portal. Hypno trailed behind him with the bag, pausing briefly to look into Candela's face.

"I've got him. Go ahead," Candela directed.

Hypno hugged the duffel close to his body and ran through the door, as if he might lose his courage unless he sprinted.

"It's just me and you, Spark," Candela said, smiling at her friend, summoning bravery from the deepest part of herself. "I'm right beside you. Let's go."

Spark sank toward the ground, landing neatly on his feet. The heat began to dissipate, but Candela still sensed an intense energy emanating from him. He was like a nuclear power plant on the way to a catastrophic meltdown, and Candela prayed the disaster could be mitigated by going through the portal.

She moved closer to him, coaxing him forward. It was then that she noticed the crimson stain near his left side. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Maybe it wasn't his blood. After all, she'd been passed out for the past who-knows-how-long, so she could have missed all sorts of things.

Spark stepped forward mechanically, and Candela fell in step beside him, not quite touching him. His eyes, still supernaturally white and shining, were fixed on the chasm before them. He moved so slowly and deliberately, but Candela feared that hurrying him might do greater harm than good. The straining tendons in his neck and the sweat on his brow indicated that he wasn't moving so sluggishly by choice. He was fighting for each step.

As they stepped through the portal's threshold, Candela felt the darkness reach around her like a physical entity. Cold fingers tightened around her body, and she instinctively held her breath, as though she were sinking into shadowed depths.

For a terrifying second, the world was gone. No sound, no light, no sense of up or down, no Spark, and then…

A soft, warm breeze, hushing through summer leaves. Pidgeys trilling somewhere nearby. The sweet, powdery scent of pollen and the sharper smell of crushed grass. Wildflowers brushed Candela's knees with each gentle breath of wind.

She stood in a grassy clearing, broken here and there by half-overgrown boulders and stands of resilient trees. To her right, the Akanoir mountains soared into a sky so vibrantly blue and vivid that Candela swore she could reach up and grab a piece of it. As she lifted a hand to shield herself from the sun, she noticed three dark shapes separating for different corners of the sky. It took a second for her to register that they were the legendary birds, already detached from the leaders and withdrawing into the air, fleeing the mountain that had imprisoned them. Candela supposed she couldn't blame them for their retreat, but in her heart, she'd been wishing for them to stay.

Ahead of her, Brutus lowered Blanche into the soft grass as Hypno stood to the side, shivering despite the summer heat. Blanche's eyes were open, soaking in the spectacular view as if it could be taken away from them at any moment.

"Candy, look…"

Spark gazed into the sky as if it contained everything he'd ever loved. Once again, he looked like himself, albeit a very pale, war-torn iteration of the Spark Candela knew. No more wings or light pouring from his eyes. No more tense muscles or clenched fists. Just Spark. Light and hopeful and always on the verge of laughing. He turned to smile at Candela.

"Sunlight," he said.

He fell into the sea of flowers, his limp arms making no effort to catch him.

"Spark!"

Candela dropped to her knees next to him and swatted away the red and yellow wildflowers that bobbed into her path. She turned him onto his back, alarmed by the lack of resistance. More alarming were his eyes, partially open but dim and vacant. A chill raced up Candela's spine and she redirected her attention to the bloody tear in Spark's shirt.

"Candela? What's happening?"

Blanche sounded winded, and in Candela's peripheral, she could see Brutus helping them to their feet as Hypno fretted nearby. Blanche was bent in the middle, their waterfall of white hair half free from its band and hanging in front of their face.

Candela slipped her fingers into the hole in Spark's shirt and ripped it into a wider window for her to see the damage through. Another layer of fabric lay beneath it, a makeshift bandage that was too saturated to do its job. Candela loosened it as Brutus set Blanche down next to her.

The cut was only a few inches long, but the depth of it caused the skin to gape apart. It was a textbook puncture wound, and Candela could barely look at it without her stomach performing uncomfortable acrobatics. She tightened the bandage again and pressed one hand over it, relieved by the slight rise and fall of his breathing. With her other hand, she checked for a pulse beneath Spark's jaw, trying not to look into his hollow eyes. It took a while for her to find it, and when she did, it was thready and inconsistent.

"Candela…?"

"He's alive," Candela said, swallowing back her fear. "I don't know for how long, though. We have to get back to town, but I don't even know what side of the mountain we're on."

Blanche shook their head. "I don't understand. What happened to him? How did we get here?"

Sweat tickled Candela's hairline. "I don't know."

"What about the birds? Where are they?"

"I don't know, Blanche. They flew off," Candela said, gritting her teeth.

"What? Why?"

"Damnit, Blanche, I don't know!"

She hadn't meant to snap like that, but Blanche, Hypno, and Brutus's responses seemed disproportionately severe. They all flinched back and watched Candela with round, wary eyes, as if she might lunge at them. The terror on Blanche's face made them look younger, smaller, like the Blanche Candela had pulled from a frozen lake when they were kids.

Candela wiped the sweat from her face and evaluated the situation. Yes, she was angry. She was angry that she'd missed so much and felt so lost. She was angry that the legendary pokémon that were supposed to be bonded to them had vanished when they needed them most. She was angry that her friend was dying, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But all that anger was doing her no good. She had to channel that energy into something productive.

"I'm sorry," Candela said. "We can figure everything out once we're back home. I'll send Kite up to scout our location."

Blanche didn't respond. They stared at Spark unblinkingly, their fingers tangled in their own hair.

"Blanche, are you listening to me?"

Blanche's bloodshot eyes lifted to meet Candela's. "It's too late."

"No, it's not. We can do this."

Candela turned out her pockets, searching for Kite's ball. She kept a straight face despite the panic that set in as she failed to find any of her pokéballs. It occurred to her that Spark must have called Brutus out, so he could have confiscated her other pokémon as well. She dug through the pockets of his jacket until she found what she was looking for.

As soon as she deployed Kite, her spirits began to sink. The pidgeot looked just as haggard as the rest of them. Kite chirruped feebly at Candela but didn't approach her. Candela pressed her lips tightly together, holding back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She must have lashed out again, like she had with Spark at the top of the falls. That's why everyone was so skittish around her. She wished she could remember what happened after the Rockets showed up…

"Kite, can you find out where we are?" Candela asked.

Kite kicked off the ground and climbed into the sky, though she lacked her usual gusto.

"It doesn't matter. It's too late," Blanche repeated. "We were warned. We knew this would happen."

Candela bit her tongue and reminded herself to keep a level head. "Are you talking about the sacrifice thing? Because it _didn't_ happen. We're alive. All of us. And I'm going to keep it that way."

Blanche crossed their hands over their heart, as though the weight of it was too much for their chest and they had to cradle it there lest it fall to the earth and shatter. Candela's own hand lifted to her chest, reacting to a sudden pain, a sharp-edged emptiness taking root beneath her sternum.

"It's over," Blanche whispered.

Their words felt like a claw closing around Candela's heart. She didn't need to hear it from Blanche. She already knew it was over. The breeze had died away without Candela noticing, leaving the world painfully silent. Above her, Kite drifted in broadening circles, looking for a town that was too far away, even for a fleet-winged pidgeot. Candela no longer sensed motion beneath the hand she held to Spark's wound.

"No," she said, because it was all she could think to say. Candela's body resonated with the word, with the physical, visceral rejection of what was happening. None of this made sense. They were supposed to save the day, overcome the odds, do what they'd always done. They were all supposed to win. They were all supposed to _live._

When the screaming started, Candela half believed it had come from inside of her. She covered her mouth with both hands as if she could stop the sound, not caring that she could taste the salt of Spark's blood. She just wanted it all to stop.

But it wasn't her scream. It was high and inhuman and sounded like glass singing in the wind. Her hands dropped into her lap as she tried to pinpoint the direction of the cry.

"Articuno," Blanche murmured, and Candela swore she could see their breath despite the warmth of the air around them.

The scream quieted, then started back up again, not as loudly as before. Candela stood up, searching for a better vantage point, her mind racing, putting it all together. Articuno's cry wasn't one of agony or sorrow. It was a hail, a call to action. A beacon.

Thick fingers slid into Candela's hand, and she looked down to see Hypno next to her. She noticed the streaks in his short yellow fur from tears that he'd wiped away, but his expression was firm now. Candela squeezed his hand and a new fire blazed within her soul.

"No," Candela said, but it wasn't like before. Her heart ached and her eyes burned, but she wasn't done. "No, this isn't the end, Blanche. We're going home."

"How?" Blanche's voice was hollow, robotic.

Two golden shapes appeared in the sky, speeding closer. The breeze built up again, lifting Candela's hair and spiraling wildflower petals into the air. Zapdos and Moltres cut through the blue like twin comets, heading directly toward Candela, and yet she felt no fear. She knew now what they were doing, and she trusted them to pull it off.

Candela, Blanche, and Spark had carried the legendary birds to safety, and it was time for the birds to return the favor.


	38. Chapter 38

Professor Willow's office was a graveyard of half-empty coffee cups, crumpled paper, and untouched meals prepared by the trainers that passed in and out of the room like ghosts, either unnoticed or ignored. Clothes and blankets sprawled across the small couch that sat against one of the walls, evidence of a makeshift bed used briefly and infrequently. Maps had been plastered around the room, scrawled over in red marker with cities circled, paths outlined, notes jotted hastily between coffee stain splatters.

It was the den of a madman.

In the middle of it, slumped across his crooked, overburdened desk, was the madman himself. Willow's eyes were open, but he was neither awake nor asleep. His head rested on the desk, among the mugs of cold coffee and the scattered pens and markers. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting this way. Five minutes? An hour? It didn't matter. He didn't have time for mucking around.

He straightened up in his chair and rubbed his dry eyes. Time. There was too much of it and not enough. It had been a week. A _week_ without a message on his communicator or a verifiable sighting or any indication that they were still alive. The snow had long since melted. The sky had returned to a chipper blue. It was almost insulting. The rest of Willow's world had turned so gray…

Willow lifted a poster from his desk and stared blankly at it. The three team leaders smiled at him in black and white ink from the missing persons memo. It wasn't one of the official posters, the ones issued by the police. He'd wanted to make something more personal, something he could hang up to remind people of who the missing were, of the lives that had been disrupted. The photo showed Blanche, Candela, and Spark in the lab kitchen, laughing with each other as they cooked what was supposed to have been a surprise birthday cake for Willow. He hadn't realized it at the time, hadn't understood why Blanche had looked so stricken when he walked in on them, or why Candela had started laughing so hard she nearly fell off the counter on which she'd been perched. He'd insisted on taking a picture to use in the newsletter he periodically distributed to Go trainers. It was never meant to be used for something like this.

Candela's parents, particularly her mother, had liked the picture. The Violles and Blanche's father, the hermitlike Mr. Kelvin, had coordinated to contact the police after their adult children had failed to return from their trek into the woods. Mr. Violle had flown in from an assignment in another region in order to search for his daughter himself. He'd scoured the woods around the Akanoir mountain range but, like the rest of the search parties, had turned up nothing. If Willow was exhausted, he couldn't fathom how his assistants' actual relatives felt.

His eyes lingered on Spark's face in the picture, his cheek slightly smudged with flour. Spark's family, to no one's surprise, had offered no comment regarding the situation. Willow presumed the Voltas had spoken with the authorities about their son, but they certainly had made no public comment about his disappearance. Willow wanted to believe that the Voltas were mourning in their own, private way, but a spiteful piece of his heart wondered what kind of family could treat this tragedy with such apparent disinterest.

And it _was_ a tragedy. All the fruitless searches, the calls made to hospitals across the region, the hours spent talking with detectives, it all had been for nothing. Willow could read the writing on the wall. He could hear the somber notes in the voices of the investigators who knew they would never find these people alive. He could sense the waning energy of the indominable Dr. Violle as she paced through the laboratory, cradling Candela's Cayenne in her arms.

They were the worst kind of gone. There were no remains to lay to rest and sing hymns over. There were no answers hidden in the hills of Akanoir. There was nothing.

Maybe it was time to give up. Maybe it would hurt less to accept that he would never see them again. Maybe another coffee would help, this time with just a dram of something stronger, something that could help him forget.

"Professor?"

Willow let the paper fall to his desk. What was he thinking? That wasn't him. He wasn't the giving-up type. His assistants sure as hell weren't, either. It had just been a sleepless and nightmarish week.

"Professor Willow."

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry," Willow sputtered, addressing the Mystic trainer who had entered his office.

The trainer hurried toward him, her face flushed from exertion, like she'd just finished a marathon. "Did you get our messages?"

"Oh, uh…" Willow fumbled through his pockets for his communicator. The screen blinked with dozens of notifications. How had he missed so many? Had he fallen asleep without realizing it?

The Mystic trainer filled him in before he could open the myriad of messages. "Articuno is on the hospital roof, Professor."

Willow froze, thinking he'd misheard her. "Pardon?"

"Articuno, the legendary ice pokémon, is on the roof of the hospital." The trainer enunciated her words deliberately, as if she were talking to a child. "We've been trying to reach you. It's only been there for a few minutes, but it won't stop screaming. I'm astounded you can't hear it from here."

Willow touched his fingers to his aching temple as he digested the information.

"Professor… what do you think it means?"

Willow pushed back his chair and strode toward the door, the trainer jogging behind him to keep up.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling we'll find out soon."

§

Willow heard Articuno long before he saw it. As soon as he was outside of the lab, the scraping-glass, roaring-wind sound of the bird overwhelmed his senses. He and the Mystic trainer raced through town in his underused jalopy, careening through narrow streets and passing groups of citizens standing on the sidewalks in front of their homes and businesses, drawn outside by the cacophony.

He couldn't help but speculate about the bird's presence. Was it there to lead him to his assistants? Could he afford to hold out hope for such a thing? Perhaps Articuno was still searching for its brethren, and had returned to Trichroma Town to try to pick up the trail again.

Willow parked half on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, too busy craning his neck to see the roof to properly fit in the space. He spilled out of the car with the trainer hot on his tail and bolted for the hospital entrance. No one stood in his way as he ran for the stairs, unwilling to trust the elevator's speed. In fact, hardly anyone was in sight, either because they'd evacuated due to the proximity of a screeching legendary bird or because they were flocking to see the rare pokémon.

The trainer kept pace as Willow took the spiraling stairs two at a time, climbing the hospital floor by floor despite his burning lungs and legs. Articuno's cries filled the metal and concrete stairwell, fluctuating as the bird caught its breath and began again. The higher they went, the louder the noise.

At last, Willow burst through the roof access door. He paused to catch his breath as he came face to face with the pokémon he'd only heard legends of.

Articuno towered above the scattering of petrified doctors, nurses, and healing pokémon on the broad, flat roof. Its azure wings were extended, a warning for the humans to keep their distance. Between its thick, pristine plumage and the airy flow of its tail feathers, it hardly looked like a real creature. It swiveled its head toward Professor Willow, quieted for a moment, and then bellowed all the louder.

Its body language wasn't aggressive, and the cry was too shrill and constant to be an attempt at intimidation. This wasn't a pokémon preparing to attack. It was sending a message, and the message wasn't necessarily intended for the humans of Trichroma Town.

Willow cupped his hands over his ears and turned to the Mystic trainer. "I didn't get your name," he shouted above the scream.

"Maria," the trainer shouted back, her brown eyes squinting as if the noise hurt more than just the ears she'd plugged with her fingers.

"Maria! You should get out of here. It's not safe," Willow said.

Maria's dark brows furrowed. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help, Professor!"

She was a good trainer. Maybe too good.

"Has anyone contacted the leaders' families about this?" Willow asked, his voice raw from the volume required to communicate above Articuno's cry.

"I'm not sure."

Willow handed her his communicator. "Go downstairs and call the Violles and Mr. Kelvin. Urge them to come to the hospital if they're not already on their way."

"And the Voltas?" Maria asked as she took the device from him.

"Yes, if they bother picking up," Willow said.

Maria leaned forward. "What did you say?"

"Yes, call the Voltas, too," Willow shouted. "Quickly!"

Maria disappeared into the stairwell and Willow returned his attention to Articuno. Behind it, two small glimmers of light pierced the blue like morning stars, confirming Willow's suspicion. So, Articuno had been calling the others. His heart pounded with optimistic anticipation, but he knew he couldn't get ahead of himself.

"Get back, everyone!" he yelled to the paramedics and their chanseys.

They didn't need to be told twice. People and pokémon alike backed further away from Articuno, never taking their eyes off of the stunning pokémon. Several flinched at the sound of approaching thunder. Articuno closed its beak, and the absence of its cry left a ringing tone in Willow's ears.

The stars in the distance expanded into recognizable shapes as they drew closer. Zapdos led the way, a burst of black and yellow rocketing across the sky at an impossible speed. Further back, Moltres frantically pumped its blazing wings, trying against the odds to catch up to its cousin. Willow held his breath. This was the kind of sighting people dreamed of, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that crowded his chest.

Zapdos slowed as it approached, and a subsonic rumble radiated from it several seconds later with a heart-clenching intensity. A sonic boom? Had it flown faster than the speed of sound? Was that even possible for a pokémon? It kept one leg pulled tightly to its chest and touched down on the roof with the other. Willow speculated that it was injured and was keeping the wounded limb close to its body.

But then it lowered the other talon and placed something on the ground in front of it. Willow immediately recognized the tuft of blonde hair and the mangled remains of a black jacket. He ran forward without thinking, but no one made a move to stop him.

Zapdos stepped back as Willow dropped down next to Spark. Willow reached for him but stopped, paralyzed by Spark's unnatural stillness and gray complexion. Some primal defense mechanism in the back of Willow's mind activated. _This isn't real. This isn't really him. This can't be my Spark._

He didn't resist as a tall nurse pulled him away from Spark's body. The world sounded muddled and distant, and though he thought he heard someone say his name, he couldn't reply to it. A familiar doctor stood above Spark, calling out instructions that Willow couldn't follow. Dr. Davies rolled up her sleeves as she spoke, the sweat shining on her deep brown skin, maybe from the heat, maybe from fear.

The concrete quaked beneath Willow's feet as Moltres landed next to Zapdos. Three legendary pokémon, all in one place, a miracle no one could afford to marvel at. Willow released a small, manic chuckle. How he used to dream of this, and how much he could learn by studying the birds up close. Now, he would trade anything never to see these harbingers of death again.

A few nurses lifted Spark's body, not waiting for a gurney to be deployed. A small group of them bore him away, but what good would it do? He was gone. Willow's nightmares had come to life before his eyes. His breath shuddered out of him as Moltres placed something down as well. He couldn't take this. He couldn't tolerate seeing them all so broken and empty.

But two figures climbed down from Moltres' back. A hypno, somewhat small and haggard, and…

"Candela," he croaked.

She heard him. Her head lifted and her ember-bright eyes met his. Candela smiled. Somehow, she smiled. Another wave of paramedics passed in front of her, gathering Moltres' cargo from the ground. A glint of moon-white hair and a filthy blue coat…

Willow jerked free of the men holding him and weaved his way through the small crowd, careful not to impede them but determined to make it to Blanche, even if he wasn't sure he was prepared to see them. Because he had to see them. He had to know.

He caught a twitch of their fingers as they were lifted up, and a warm relief blossomed in his chest. It wasn't much, but it was something. Willow staggered after the nurses who carried Blanche, intending to follow them, make certain they were cared for, help in any way he could, but a hand snagged his shoulder.

Professor Willow turned toward the fearlessly smiling leader of Valor. He pulled Candela into a tight hug, encircling her with his trembling arms. She was covered in cuts and bruises and patches of grime, her hair smelled like bonfire and sweat, and she wavered unsteadily in Willow's hold, but she was alive and whole, and he never wanted to let her go.

"It's OK, Professor," Candela said in his ear.

Willow held tighter, easing up only when Candela sucked in a sharp breath. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm serious," Candela said. She pushed him back a little, so she could look him in the eye. Willow took inventory of the scrapes and small burns across her face as she continued. "It's going to be OK. I know how bad it looks, but Blanche and Spark… they're going to be fine."

Willow grimaced. Maybe she didn't know. Maybe she was in shock. "Candela, you're hurt. Why don't you sit down, and the paramedics-"

She laughed, and the laugh turned into a cough.

"Please, Candela…"

"You have to listen to me," Candela said. "They're alive, they're both alive, and they're not going to die."

"But Spark-"

"Professor," Candela interrupted, her hoarse voice commanding, unyielding. "They won't die. I just know it. I think maybe I know it because Moltres knows it… The point is, you don't have to worry. Trust me." She paused and pursed her lips. "This must be how Spark feels, like, _all_ the time."

Willow wanted to believe her. He'd learned over the years to trust Spark's insight, but the same "trust me" proclamations from Candela… He didn't know what to make of them. But he'd always trusted in Candela's passion. Even when the world looked grim, Candela was confident and optimistic. Sometimes it was hard to see past her spitfire personality and cocky demeanor, but Candela was the most grounded of the three leaders. Spark and Blanche spent too much time in their heads, playing out the worst possible scenarios. Candela wasn't like that. She didn't lose herself in the "what if." She approached the world head-on, courageous and clever and direct. Maybe she was worthy of a little more faith.

"I trust you, Candela," Willow said.

Candela's wild grin softened into something gentler. "Thanks, Prof."

She looked so much older than she had a week ago. It wasn't that she'd lost her youthful energy, that wasn't it at all. Her ferocious, unstoppable spirit was still there, but it seemed tempered and balanced in a way Willow had never seen in her before. For a moment, she looked like her mother.

"What happened?" Willow asked. "Where were you?"

But he was interrupted by a pair of medics as they rushed to attend to Candela's wounds. Willow stood back and found he was out of breath. He placed his hand over his heart and tried to feel at peace.

"I'll tell you everything, Professor, but not now," Candela said as she was guided away.

"I'll hold you to it," Willow said.

He remained where he was as Candela disappeared through a door into the hospital, followed by a wave of nervously mewling chanseys and the small, bedraggled hypno that had ridden with her. Then, there was only quiet.

The hospital roof was empty aside from Professor Willow and the three legendary birds. Willow could feel their eyes on his back. He turned toward them, his mouth dry, palms sweating. They took up so much space, not just because of their size. They had a grand presence about them and the air seemed to hum with their power. They were as still as statues aside from Moltres' undulating flames.

"Thank you for bring my family home," the professor said, unsure if they could even hear or understand him.

The birds dipped their heads, and Willow unconsciously took a step back.

His mind whirred with a million questions about the birds and the events of the past week, but he knew he could find no answer here. He'd waited for a long time, but he'd have to hold out for a bit longer. In the meantime, he had to trust in Candela and the chance that maybe things would be alright again.

He couldn't imagine what his life would be like if Candela was wrong.


	39. Chapter 39

For the first time in a thousand years, Zapdos felt the pull of the eternal darkness.

It had taken almost everything the great bird of the storm had left to reach Trichroma Town. Its Champion had found the energy to endure, so Zapdos had as well, calling on the last of its reserves to overcome the agony transmitted through their bond. It felt like it could have fallen out of the sky with every wingbeat, and yet, it had persisted. It remembered this feeling. It was the same one it had experienced with its last Champion, the son of the Kiiro people, just before their bond had broken. Zapdos carried the sensation of death within its body, but it would not, _could_ not die.

And it wouldn't let Spark die, either.

Articuno and Moltres had told Zapdos that what it was doing was unnecessary, but Zapdos had never been good at listening to them. It dwelled in storms, the kind that humans could sense in their bones, could predict with their radar, but could never truly resist. The will of Zapdos was unbendable, and the other birds knew it.

 _You have a soft spot for humans. It's cute,_ Moltres had mocked.

But Moltres had a soft spot for them, too. It watched their battles from afar, it passed over the weary and heartbroken to inspire them with courage. It loved its Valorous Knight dearly, and was moved by her capacity for love, in all its untamable forms.

 _Your Champion can keep his promise without you,_ Articuno had assured it.

But if Articuno's Mystic Sage had been the one standing on the brink, Zapdos knew it would have done the same thing. It too had drawn from deep, long-sleeping reserves to endure its Sage's pain and guide them all to safety. Articuno claimed to be disinterested in humanity, but if that were true, why did it share secrets with the brave, inquisitive humans that traveled high enough in its frozen mountains? Why did it glow with pride when they made new discoveries?

They'd all lived too long not to love mankind. A thousand years ago, they'd tried to deepen their bond with them, but it had been a disastrous move. So they'd withdrawn and grown apart not only from people but from each other. They'd not always been close, that was certain, but they couldn't deny their bond. In its memory, Zapdos still heard Moltres' cry of pain when the Rockets had found it within its volcanic home. They were, after all, family, and families shared each other's suffering.

Zapdos' Champion of Instinct was family, too. Perhaps Articuno and Moltres were hesitant to use the term with humans, but Zapdos didn't see the point in such reluctance. No, its Champion could keep his promise on his own, but Zapdos intended to help in whatever way it could, despite its own pain. Besides, it had a message to deliver.

So, with Articuno and Moltres watching over it, Zapdos returned to Spark's power plant.

Though it was no longer storming within Spark's mind, the damage remained. Downed wires splayed on the concrete and bent poles supported dead machinery. It took some flying to find Spark amid the wreckage.

He sat in a clear space beneath a still-functioning bar of surveillance lights, cross-legged, a sketchbook in his lap. He was smaller than before. A child, like the first time Zapdos had interacted with him. Instead of perching above Spark, Zapdos landed softly a few yards away.

Spark looked up from his drawing, calm, unflustered by Zapdos' appearance. "Hey… it's you."

 _Why are you so small?_

Spark held his little hands in front of his face and twisted his lips in confusion. "Uh… because I'm a kid, I guess."

Zapdos hadn't expected to find its Champion like this, reduced to his simplest essence, bubbled within a safe memory. It was a defensive technique, it supposed. But if Spark lingered for too long, he might never leave. He required some coaxing.

 _Do you remember when we met?_

Spark beamed. "It was kinda like this."

 _Do you know how long ago that was?_

The boy's cheerful expression faded. "I'm not sure…"

Zapdos pointed its beak at the sketchpad. _What are you drawing?_

Spark toyed with his pencil and shrugged uncomfortably. "I dunno. Stuff, I guess."

Perhaps Zapdos had spent too long inside of a human's mind. It had been decades since it had felt empathy like this. Part of it didn't want Spark to realize what was happening, but he had to. Too much hinged on it.

 _Look at the sketchbook, Champion._

Spark chewed his lip, stalling. Eventually, he lifted the sketchpad and began to review it. Sketches of cave tunnels and crystals, monsters and people, a dead woman's face…

After about a minute, Spark set it aside.

"I don't like these drawings," he said, quietly.

 _But they're yours._ _They're your story, and your story isn't over._

Spark turned his face away and gazed pensively into the darkness.

 _Do you know why you drew those things?_

"So I wouldn't forget," Spark said, his brows pulling together in concentration. "It's hard to think. There was something I was supposed to do…"

 _You made a promise._

"My friends…" Spark sprang to his feet. "I have to get back to my friends!"

Spark's form vacillated between child and adult for a few seconds before settling on the older version of himself. He instantly calmed down and turned in a slow circle, taking in in the destruction around him, then slipped his hands into his pockets and whistled low. Zapdos wasn't sure what it meant.

"I think I was a little lost just now. Should I be worried that you're back in my head? Because it seems like you and your buddies trashed the place the last time you were here," he observed, smirking grimly.

 _I'm reaching you psychically through our bond. My consciousness isn't truly in your mind like it was before._

"Oh. Uh. Great, I guess. But what are you doing here?"

 _I came to bring you home._

"Whoa there, big guy," Spark said, raising his hands. "If this is some kind of 'come with me to the afterlife' shtick, I'm gonna have to pass. I'm not leaving Blanche and Candela."

 _No, Champion. You are not dead. I want to help you live._

Spark crossed his arms. "Zapdos… Thank you for snapping me out of it, but it's about time I started rescuing myself. Now, since you're not technically in my mind anymore, I guess that means we made it through the gate. Are we somewhere safe? Are Blanche and Candela OK?"

 _We're in Trichroma Town. At the hospital. They're both being looked after and will be alright._

Spark puffed out his cheeks and released his breath in a hiss. "Dr. Davies is _not_ going to be happy to see me again. OK. So, somehow, we all got home. Do we have you to thank for that?"

Zapdos nodded slowly. Spark was catching up. This was good news.

"So I ask again: what are you doing here?" There was a wonderful sharpness to Spark's question.

 _Truly, I came to assist you as you did for me._

"But there's something else. You were worried about me – which is super adorable – but you knew by now that I could pull through on my own. If I'm playing chess with death, you can't be in great shape either, so there must be another reason you pushed yourself to drop by for a visit."

 _I came to warn you, and to say goodbye._

Spark's arms fell to his sides, and Zapdos was slightly pleased that it could still surprise its clever Champion.

"What? Goodbye?"

 _We will be gone by the time you are well enough to fully wake. Moltres and Articuno do not like being so exposed, and will wait only long enough for me to regain sufficient strength to fly back to the privacy of the wilderness._

"And what are you warning me of?"

 _An oncoming storm._

Spark lowered his brows, unimpressed. "I thought Articuno was supposed to be the cryptic one."

 _Team Rocket has opened a door to a dark future, and I doubt they will be discouraged by the setback in the Akanoir Mountains. We have been preparing for the evils they intend to unleash. Years ago, we selected you as our Knight, Sage, and Champion with the hope that this time, we could take greater care in developing our bond. Our combined power would have stood a chance against Team Rocket's forces._

Spark's eyes darted, chasing invisible thoughts. "You knew about Team Rocket?"

 _We didn't know their name at first. We sensed the shifting of dark powers._

For some reason, Spark looked angry. "OK, Zappy-Wan Kenobi, so you sensed a disturbance in the Force, but you still flew into their trap?"

Zapdos tried not to reflect Spark's anger. Human emotions were intense, but ultimately fleeting.

 _Articuno and I had to respond to Moltres' call, despite anticipating the trap. We are called against our will to each other. Even if we weren't, I couldn't justify leaving Moltres to suffer. Moltres chose to dwell in those mountains to watch over the people who dwelled within it, and while it knew the Rockets had taken up research in the mountains, it believed it would all be for naught. We underestimated them. We will not make that mistake again._

Spark's anger wasn't dissipating. In fact, it was growing stronger. "What did you mean when you said you 'selected' us?"

 _We chose you. When we bond with you, our power magnifies. But it's a delicate process, and one that Team Rocket has abused. This is why I came to warn you. Articuno and Moltres aren't as concerned that our bond was forced so soon, but I feel the wrongness of it. We were meant to gradually come together until we fell in sync with each other. Now, it's too late, and I foresee terrible consequences. I want you to be on your guard. Your story is only beginning._

"You were using us."

Zapdos' feathers lifted in surprise. _What?_

"All this time, you were planning to use us to increase your own power, to use us as pawns in a war we didn't sign up for," Spark said, his jaw tight, fists clenched. "What if we don't want that?"

 _There are lives at stake, Champion._

"Yes, there are. _Our_ lives," Spark said. "Zapdos, we're broken people. We've seen and done awful things, and now, we just want to rest and go back to our lives. I can't keep going like this, and neither can my friends. I'm not your 'Champion.'"

Zapdos didn't know what to make of his reaction. Spark should have been honored to be the Champion of Instinct. He should have been eager to defend humanity against the evils that were coming. Why was he acting like this?

 _There are people who need you. Not just the Knight and the Sage._

"They have names, damn it," Spark growled.

 _There are pokémon who will suffer unless you do something._

Spark sighed and shook his head. "Find someone else to do something. I can't let my friends be hurt again."

 _It's too late. It has to be you._

Spark shuddered, and Zapdos realized he was crying. It had liked that about him when he was younger. He held so much kindness in his soul that it came leaking out at every injustice he came across.

 _I chose you for a reason, Spark. You, Candela, and Blanche are the only ones who can stand up to the darkness._

Spark placed his hand over his face. "I just wanted a choice."

Choice. What a human concept, the idea that they had free will, the ability to choose their paths for themselves. It was a gift to see the world that way, but it made the absence of choice excruciating.

 _What will you do?_

Spark stood tall and did not bother wiping away the few tears he had shed. He looked into Zapdos' face with confidence and defiance and, as always, kindness.

"I will keep fighting. I'll protect people and pokémon from Team Rocket. I won't let them cause any more pain. I'll do it because it's the right thing to do, and because I know this is bigger than me. But you need to understand that we are not your weapons or vessels or whatever it is about us that makes you stronger. We are ourselves, and you will not take that away."

 _I understand._

Spark bent to pick up his sketchbook. He flipped through the pages and traced his fingers over the graphite.

"I trust you. Even when everything was going to hell down in the caves, you still had my back, and you still let me be me."

It hadn't been easy for Zapdos. It had fought with its own manic paranoia every minute it was trapped in Spark's head. More than either of its cousins, Zapdos understood the fragility of humans, not just physically. It had pushed itself to the edge of its sanity to maintain control, to keep Spark from completely losing sight of the truth, but it had barely been enough.

Spark closed the sketchbook. "You'll keep us safe, won't you?"

 _There are many dangers ahead of us. But I will give everything to protect you. All of you._

"Then this must be the part where you say goodbye."

Zapdos moved closer and nudged Spark's chest with its beak. _Only for now._

It allowed Spark to angle its head down so he could wrap his arms around its neck. They remained embraced for a long time, breathing in tandem. Zapdos had chosen the right Champion for a battle neither of them wanted to fight. It was only a matter of time before the real war began.

Spark let go and stepped back. "Goodbye, Zapdos."

 _Goodbye, Spark._

Zapdos allowed itself to return to its body and the pain that awaited it there. It knew it would get worse, that the challenges they would face would be grander than any encountered in the Akanoir Mountains. But this time, they could prepare. This time, the fate of the world depended on it.

§

 **AN:** Happy Valentine's Day! I realize there's a feeling of finality in this chapter, but we're not quite done. I mean, I obviously can't help myself and am setting more things into motion for another story… but that's a whole other kettle of wishiwashi.

Anyhoo, I'm sorry about "Zappy-Wan Kenobi" (our only hope). Let's blame that groaner of a pun on Spark being loopy from exsanguination. I discovered somewhat recently that my wife (have I shared her name yet? It still feels weird saying "wife." She's Kelsey. I am just now realizing I did NOT prepare a Valentine for her. Oh crap. I'm discovering this in the middle of a parenthetical in the author notes section of my fanfic. I am ashamed.) hasn't properly seen all of the Star Wars movies. Which is unacceptable. I just thought you all should know.


	40. Chapter 40

The room was bright and quiet and still. The sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital mingled with the softly sweet scent of iris and lilies, and Spark worried that he was still in the field of wildflowers, that he was imagining things. But then he noticed the crayon drawing beneath the flower vase, folded to stand on its own like a card, of a little girl with black pom-pom pigtails next to a round-bodied meowth. Little Hannah Davies and Muffin…

Spark tried to shift his sore body, but it felt like all of his blood had been replaced with lead. He focused on moving his fingers, a task which should have been easy. As he flexed his left hand, he realized it was holding something warm. He rolled his head to see what was there.

Candela snoozed with her hand in his, sitting sideways in a chair she'd pulled next to Spark's bed, her legs kicked over one of the arms. Rutabaga curled in her lap, her lightning-bolt tail wrapped around herself. Both snored faintly, Candela with a bit of a rumble, Rutabaga with a sighing squeak. Candela's face was crisscrossed with small bandages, and her arms were wrapped with white cloth. She wore a baggy T-shirt and plain sweatpants, the kind she usually wore as pajamas.

As if she had felt his eyes on her, Candela stirred. She arched her back to stretch and yawned, causing Rutabaga to wake and yawn as well. Her sleepy gaze fell on Spark.

"Oh, hey, Spark," she slurred.

Then Candela's eyes widened and she jolted upright, swinging her legs to the floor and spilling Rutabaga out of her lap. "Spark!"

"Hey," Spark said, but it came out in a hissing whisper. His mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

Rutabaga scrambled onto the bed and pushed her nose into Spark's hand so he could stroke her soft fur. He was pretty sure non-medical pokémon weren't permitted to roam free in the hospital like this, but he was glad that Rutabaga was getting away with it.

"I thought you were _never_ going to wake up," Candela said, squeezing Spark's hand. "Well, I knew you would eventually, but it's been almost five days!"

Spark smiled crookedly. "Well, you know, I like to sleep in."

"Phew," Candela sighed. "It's the real you. I thought you might have been coming around yesterday. You were muttering something creepy about 'the darkness.' I think it was a little too much for your mom. She said the lighting was giving her a headache and she hasn't been back since."

"My parents were here?"

Candela rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she spoke. "Yeah, and they made sure to make a scene about how heroic you were and how much they've suffered this week, particularly when there were cameras nearby. Your mom can really turn on the waterworks when she wants to."

When Spark didn't comment, she continued. "I'm sorry, Spark. Your family just gets on my nerves. I'm sure they've had a miserable week worrying about you. My mom and dad have been more or less glued to me ever since they got here. It takes a half hour of arguing to convince them I'll be OK on my own while they grab lunch or pick something up for me. Hypno has been clinging pretty close to them, which I think is helping at least my mom. Gives her something to take care of aside from me, I guess. He's been nervous around all the medical equipment and people in lab coats, but he won't go in a pokéball. I think he's intrigued by being in a lab-like place that's for healing, not harming."

"Where's Blanche? Are they OK?"

Candela wilted. "They're pretty beat up. Broken ribs and frostbite, not to mention general bumps and bruises. They're awake, but not released yet. I've been splitting my time between Blanche and you, but I get this feeling that Blanche isn't always happy to have me around. They're trying to hide it, but I know they're tense when I'm in the room."

Candela scratched at the wrapping around her forearm, choosing her next words. "I'm not oblivious. I know what must have happened. When we went through the door, into the field, I tasted something bitter in my mouth. It was Waik's sedative, wasn't it?"

Spark wished she would look up at him again, but she kept her eyes latched to the bandage on her arm. There was no point in dancing around what had happened. "How much do you remember?"

"We were in the magma chamber, negotiating with Team Rocket," Candela said. "The next thing I know, we're at the portal."

Spark tried to maintain a neutral expression so Candela wouldn't read the full extent of his surprise. He'd expected her to remember at least some part of her wrathful transformation. He didn't want to tell her. He was tired, so tired. His stomach felt warm and prickly and sharp, and it seemed like his wound was drawing all his energy into it, draining him physically and emotionally.

"Blanche says they don't remember much either," Candela continued with a wan smile. "Everybody wants to know what happened, and it's mostly fallen to me to answer, but I only have part of the story. Plus, I'm tired of thinking about everything we saw in the mountain. I'm not eager to relive it over and over. So, I understand if you're not ready to talk about it either. I don't mean to grill you for answers to ugly questions five minutes after getting you back. But…"

Candela's voice broke a little, and she paused to center herself. Spark had a good idea of what she was about to ask, but waited patiently for her to pose the question herself.

Candela's sunflower eyes finally returned to meet Spark's. "Did I do this to you?"

Spark shook his head. He tried to speak, but his dry mouth slowed him down.

"What about Blanche? Did I hurt them?"

"It wasn't really you," Spark managed. He wanted to elaborate. He wanted to explain everything, to transmit all the information directly to Candela without the agonizing delay of speech, because there was so much more to his answer.

But it didn't matter. She already knew the truth in its simplest form, and it was devastating. Candela's body bent with the weight of the knowledge, and she covered her horrified grimace with her hand.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

"It wasn't you, Candela. It may have been your body, but it wasn't you," Spark said. He started to sit up, intending to reach a comforting arm to her, but was stopped by the instant, stabbing pain that bloomed in his gut. He sucked in a breath and reclined again, frustrated that he couldn't give her all the answers right away, that he couldn't even provide a firm arm to steady her.

Candela pulled her hand away from her mouth and balled it into a fist. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a few seconds, released a slow, calm breath, and straightened back up in her seat. She was recovering. She was taking that overwhelming flood of emotion, and she was channeling it away.

"OK," she said, quietly but assuredly.

"OK?"

"Yeah. OK. It's a lot to process, but it's OK."

She smiled again, in that way that held a hundred different meanings. There was sorrow and guilt there, but also peace. Spark must have been staring for too long, because Candela turned a bit to the side and quirked her brow.

"What?"

"You're different," Spark said.

Candela pulled her head back uncertainly. "Good different or…?"

"Good different," Spark said.

Candela chuckled. "You're different, too. I think we all are. I mean, how do you go through what we did and not come back changed?"

Rutabaga nuzzled closer to Spark's side and he massaged her velvety ear with his thumb. So much was different, and so much was still the same. Through the haze of exhaustion and medication in his mind, Spark recalled Zapdos' warning.

"The birds are gone, aren't they?" Spark asked.

Candela narrowed her eyes. "They left this morning. How did you know they were here? Do you remember Zapdos carrying you?"

Spark shook his head. "Can we get Blanche in here?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," Candela said, somewhat suspiciously. "You're still in rough shape, Spark. If you're not ready to talk about what happened, you don't have to. Maybe you should rest a little more first."

"I'll be fine," Spark said. "There's a lot you need to know, and the sooner I tell you, the better."

§

It wasn't as easy as bringing Blanche to the room. Dr. Davies insisted on spending some time with Spark first to assess his condition. She wasn't keen on him hosting Professor Willow, Blanche, and Candela in his room so early in his recovery, but eventually he wore her down with promises of rest and obedience afterward.

"Very well," Dr. Davies relented, crossing her arms. "But if you make things worse for yourself, you won't just be creating more work for me, you'll also be disappointing Hannah."

"I'd never dream of disappointing her," Spark said.

Dr. Davies casually tucked a tight black curl of hair behind her ear, giving herself an opportunity to inconspicuously glance toward the door.

"There are a lot of people who want to see you, Spark. Your parents, most significantly, now that you're conscious."

Spark did want to see them. Their relationship was tumultuous, but they were his parents, after all. However, they could stand to wait for just a little longer.

"There's another family I need to meet with first," Spark said.

"Of course," Dr. Davies said knowingly. "I'll keep the Voltas occupied for a while."

And so Professor Willow, Blanche, and Candela were the only three allowed into the room, just as the colors through Spark's window shifted to the warm magenta of a setting sun.

They were a sorry-looking lot, there was no denying that. The professor's face was gaunt from lack of sleep, and he pushed Blanche in a wheelchair. Blanche's hair cascaded behind them, loose and flowing, not bound by its usual tie. Beneath the hospital gown, Spark glimpsed the overlapping bandages on Blanche's body and worried about the extent of the frostbite Candela had mentioned. And yet, they all smiled as brightly as if it were a holiday.

"Spark!" Blanche's smile was as radiant as it was rare and was nearly too big for their face. Something about it spurred Spark to giddy laughter, which spread to Candela as she plopped down at the foot of his bed, and then to the professor. It hurt to laugh, but it hurt to do just about anything, and the ecstasy of the reunion was worth the pain.

For a few minutes, they simply basked in each other's presence, silently sharing the same grateful sentiment. They were together, and they were safe, and maybe it could stay that way forever. Spark wished that could be the case. He wished he had a choice. He wished he didn't have to tell them his story, but the story belonged to them as well. It was a burden for them all to carry, coupled with a warning they'd all have to heed.

"I'm so glad to have you home," Professor Willow said, placing his hand gently on Spark's shoulder.

"Not as glad as I am to _be_ home," Spark replied.

He wasn't comfortable being the center of attention, splayed out in a stiff, chemical-scented hospital bed, but seeing all of their faces again was like stepping into the first sunny day after a brutal winter. It was almost enough to forget his wounds and the tubes pricking his inner elbow and the scratchy texture of the hospital gown.

"We've told him everything up to the magma chamber," Candela said.

Rutabaga twitched her tail uneasily and Spark scratched beneath her chin to calm her. She had refused to leave his side, despite Dr. Davies' chastising. It was hard to believe that a few days ago, he'd been convinced he'd never see her again.

"Yes, Candela and Blanche left me with a bit of a cliffhanger," Willow said with an incredulous smirk. "Are you sure you're ready to continue?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Spark said. "Are you?"

Willow, Candela, and Blanche looked to each other for solidarity. They all knew that the rest of the story was not easy to hear, but it had to be told.

"Go ahead, Spark," Willow said.

And so Spark told them everything, leaving no detail untouched. His audience sat in rapt silence as he described Candela's wrath, the collapse of the floor, Blanche's ice shield. He spoke truthfully despite the pain in Candela's eyes and the way one of her hands gripped the other as though it didn't belong to her, as if the fist that struck Blanche with such force _couldn't_ belong to her. He monitored the fleeting micro-expressions across Blanche's placid face and the way Willow's breathing changed with every mention of the villainous woman he'd once been so close to.

By the time he was describing the start of his climb up the inside of the chamber, Spark felt winded. He paused to catch his breath, frustrated by the inconvenience of his broken body. The others all had questions on their tongues, and he could sense that they were barely holding themselves back.

When Spark resumed his story, he left out more of the particulars. He glossed over his confrontation with his inner self and hurried the narrative along, fearing he wouldn't have the energy to address his friends' inevitable inquiries. Besides, his conversation with himself was a private one. That part of the tale belonged to Spark alone.

He concluded with the last thing he truly recalled before his memory of the event turned foggy and disjointed: bringing the three birds into his mind.

"It was like diving to the bottom of a deep pool," Spark said. "I felt a pressure in my ears, and the world sounded muted. I remember holding the key, but I didn't feel like I belonged in my body. There was no room left for me. It's hazy after that, but I guess you guys know the rest of the story."

The mood had shifted while Spark was focused on his memories. Willow's hand was over his mouth, his brows drawn low and tight with concentration. Blanche's slim eyes were opened a little too wide as they stared at a spot on the wall across from them. Candela stood from the foot of his bed, slack-jawed.

"What? Did I miss something?" Spark asked. His voice had faded while he spoke, and was now little more than a breathy whisper.

"You brought all the birds into your head? Are you serious?" Candela asked, beginning to pace.

"I thought you knew," Spark said. Of everything in his story, this was the part that surprised them?

"We _should_ have known," Blanche said, ending their staring contest with the wall. "When we snapped out of our affected states, I assumed it was because the birds were concentrating on the portal and loosening their grips on our minds. I thought Zapdos had taken control of Spark's body, like Moltres had with Candela."

"But that's _not_ what happened with me and Moltres. It was both of us and neither of us… I think…" Candela said.

"I didn't know that at the time," Blanche reminded her.

Candela paused to lean on the foot of the bed again. "I guess I thought the same thing, or that the key was affecting Spark differently than it did with Blanche when we first opened the door into the mountain."

"Didn't you say having just one legendary bird sharing headspace with you was extremely dangerous?" Willow asked Blanche, scratching nervously at the scruff that had formed on his cheek.

"It was enough to drive us mad," Blanche said.

"Guys, calm down."

Willow, Blanche, and Candela looked at Spark as he spoke as if they'd forgotten he was in the room. He chuckled at their surprised faces.

"I'm here, right? I'm here and alive and I feel more like myself than I have in a long damn time," he went on.

Candela relaxed a bit, but Blanche was unconvinced.

"The birds could have dealt serious damage to your mind, and we have no way of knowing the extent of it," Blanche said.

"Yes you do," Spark countered. "You have me. You have my words. I think I'm going to be OK, but if not, I have you to help me out, don't I?"

Blanche considered for a few seconds, but then smiled. It wasn't the same smile as before, but it was still pure. "Yes. You have all of us."

Candela scooped Rutabaga into her arms and ruffled her fur. "Thank you, Spark."

"For what? Are you stealing Rootie?"

The raichu lashed her tail, prepared to fend off the threat of theft.

Candela laughed and hugged Rutabaga tighter. "I wouldn't dare! No, Spark. Thank you for saving our lives."

"And for not dying in the process," Blanche said.

"Against all odds," Willow added, quietly. "The three of you are going to put me in an early grave."

"Come on, Professor. You know you need us around to protect you from your evil exes," Candela said.

Willow winced, but tried to smile at the jab.

"Maybe a little early to joke about that, Candy," Spark said.

"No, it's alright. It was another life ago," Willow said. "I'm just glad to have you back. All of you."

Blanche cleared their throat authoritatively. "I think we've discussed all we can for the moment. Dr. Davies will be back to shoo us out any minute now. We should let Spark rest."

"Hold on. There's something else I need to tell you," Spark said.

He'd half expected some pushback, but everyone waited on him to proceed. Blanche was right about Dr. Davies. Spark would need to convey all he could as quickly as possible, despite his raw throat and heavy eyelids.

"Zapdos visited me. Psychically. While I was out. I know how crazy that sounds, but we've all had to believe a lot of crazy stuff lately. It came to warn me about Team Rocket."

Blanche clasped their hands in their lap. "Are you sure this wasn't a dream, Spark?"

"I'm positive," Spark said. "The birds apparently grow stronger when bonded to a human, so they chose us to pair with in the hopes that together, we could stop Team Rocket. But Zapdos is worried that we were forced to bond too closely too soon. After all, the weird things that happened to the Aka, Ao, and Kiiro nations and their leaders were probably the result of an unstable bond. That's what Zapdos thinks, anyway."

"I thought we already defeated Team Rocket," Candela said. "Or at least enough of them to make them think twice about confronting us again."

"Their organization has likely expanded over the years," Willow said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Joan joined one of their branches early on in their development, and she made it seem like there were dozens of other Team Rocket cells across the region even back then. There have been whispers of the growing ranks of Rockets here and there, but they've posed no great public threat so far. The few people who know about them consider them petty criminals. I've been suspicious for years, ever since Joan told me about their extensive network of secret labs, but a decade passed without me hearing anything more about it. I assumed Team Rocket had dissolved into nothing more than a gang of small-time thugs united by name alone."

Spark struggled to figure out who Willow meant by "Joan" before finally realizing it was Dr. Dillinger's first name. It was disconcerting to hear the professor refer to her so casually.

"The birds sensed some kind of darkness surrounding Team Rocket, according to Zapdos," Spark continued. "Whatever they're up to, it's bad news, and it's bigger than Dillinger's project in the Akanoir Mountains. Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres want us to help stop them."

Blanche rolled a lock of their snowy hair between their fingers as they processed the information. Seeing their hair down like this was strange. They looked softer this way, younger.

"Did Zapdos give you any details about this so-called darkness?" they asked.

"Frustratingly, no," Spark said.

"What about a timeline? What happens next?" Candela asked.

Spark rolled his head on the pillow. "No timeline. Just a vague, ominous warning. I think the birds aren't sure what to expect."

The room was quiet as everyone contemplated the message. Spark didn't want to leave them on a sour note, but a fog was rolling over his mind, and the blessed drip of pain medication could only work so many wonders on the rest of him.

"It's going to be OK," he said. "Right now, all we can do is heal. Whatever happens next, we'll face it together."

Candela placed Rutabaga back on the bed, where she huffily groomed her tousled fur before snuggling against Spark again. "Spark's right. We should focus on ourselves for now. We're not facing down a criminal empire looking like this."

"What's that about criminal empires?"

Dr. Davies had slipped into the room as quietly as a shadow. As she approached the bed, Spark noticed the tagalong on her heels. Hypno courteously maneuvered around Blanche's wheelchair so he could stand next to Spark. He'd been cleaned and healed, and his eyes sparkled with joy and vitality.

"Hypster! You look great!" Spark said.

Hypno bashfully covered his face with his hands.

"It's like he's a different pokémon," Dr. Davies said, putting words to Spark's thoughts. "A few days ago, I was certain he wouldn't adapt to this place. He was so skittish."

Hypno uncovered his face and gazed around the room, taking in the details of the machinery. As Candela had said before, the concept that scientific equipment could be used to help people and pokémon must have been foreign to him before. Now, he was awestruck by the good that could be done by humans in lab coats.

"You know I'm here to kick you out, right?" Dr. Davies said to Spark's guests as she set a clipboard down on a counter.

"Yeah, yeah," Candela said with a limp wave of her hand.

Dr. Davies planted her hands firmly on her hips. "Excuse me? I fixed you, and I can unfix you, team leader or not."

"Sheesh, understood," Candela said, playing along with the bit. "Can we at least say goodbye?"

"Make it quick. You'll see each other again soon, I'm sure," Dr. Davies said.

Candela sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over Spark in the closest thing to a hug that could be accomplished under the circumstances. Blanche leaned forward, despite the pain it must have caused them, so they could hold Spark's wrist.

"We love you, you know," Candela whispered.

"I know," said Spark, a lump forming in his throat. "I love you, too."

"Come on, don't start crying," Candela said, but her eyes were already wet.

Blanche squeezed Spark's wrist. They didn't need to speak; their eyes conveyed a thousand words of love and hope and peace.

"OK, everyone," Willow said softly. "Let's go."

Candela stood up and rested her arm on Hypno's head. Willow cupped his hand against the side of Spark's face, like a parent might do with a sick child. Spark could tell the professor had much left to say, but wasn't about to oppose Dr. Davies. The gentle touch would suffice for now.

Blanche released their hold on Spark and allowed Willow to take his station behind their wheelchair. He could feel sleep starting to envelope him as they departed, but he wanted to linger in the moment for just a while longer. Whatever happened next, he had his family's love, and they had his. He had so much to give them. Stories and comfort, patience and humor, kindness in the face of an unkind world. The future fanned in front of Spark in a million mysterious directions, but it didn't matter what course he sailed. He would have his siblings with him, and that would be enough.

§

 **AN:** Man, this was another one of those chapters that was difficult to write. It's been strange and busy around here lately. Thunderstorms and tornado warnings in February (I'm in the U.S. Midwest, mind you), a persistent cold that I can't seem to shake… It's like I'm being haunted by my own stories! I'll let you know if Kelsey and I make friends with a legendary bird while we're out searching for Johto pokémon this week.

This is the last "proper" chapter in Evils of Truth and Love. There are some loose ends to tie up, however, and so I'll conclude with an epilogue soon. See ya then!


	41. Chapter 41

Autumn came to Trichroma Town in bursts of orange and red bright enough to fight the chill of the approaching winter. The passing weeks did little to curb the energy generated by the return of the Mystic, Valor, and Instinct leaders. Every café conversation seemed to loop back around to the topic, every edition of the local paper carried some mention of the mysterious adventure of Professor Willow's assistants. Bakeries decorated cookies to resemble legendary birds. Children scoured the town for fallen plumage, looking for a trophy to take home and hide among their treasures.

And yet, when pressed, nobody could say for sure what happened to Blanche, Candela, and Spark.

One of the bakers behind the legendary cookie craze took up telling absurd stories about how the leaders found a lost civilization and battled terrifying abominations and defeated an evil organization that was out to take over the world. He said the leader of Team Instinct told him about it one morning when he was picking up bagels for Professor Willow's lab.

Nobody believed him. It was too ridiculous a story to be true.

Plus, the leaders refused to give details about their adventure. They stuck to the story that they'd gotten lost in the wilderness for a week, and that was as much as they'd say. That explanation raised more questions than it answered, and soon, everyone had their own private theories about what _really_ happened.

The one thing everyone could agree on, however, was that the team leaders had changed.

Blanche appeared around town with more frequency than ever before. They would stop and converse with strangers, sometimes even with a smile. The Mystic trainers murmured to each other about them, agreeing that it felt like they were truly meeting their leader for the first time.

Something was different about the way Candela interacted with her trainers, too. She was as bold and colorful and passionate as ever, but there was an element of restraint about her now. She seemed older since she'd come home, and perhaps sadder. The trainers of Team Valor found something heartbreaking in the way she looked toward the mountains as she walked the streets of Trichroma Town.

The least changed seemed to be Spark. After a few weeks in the hospital, he returned to the outside world, his face glowing. He laughed and chatted with curious townsfolk as he picked out sweaters and costumes for his pokémon, but refused to share any real information about what happened to him out in the mountains. Though most folks saw nothing new about Spark's eccentric behavior, the consensus among the Instinct trainers was that a weight had been lifted from their leader, and he was finally at peace.

Since the leaders and the poker-faced Professor Willow wouldn't budge, the more persistent citizens of Trichroma Town went to Dr. Davies in search of the inside scoop. She shut them down. It wasn't her story to tell, and shame on them for asking anyway. She was, however, quick to show off the newest addition to the ranks of medical pokémon: a small hypno who could put anxious minds at ease with the gentle swing of his pendulum.

So Trichroma Town was kept in the dark, despite the crazy stories the baker insisted were true. There could be no underground society, no half-pokémon, half-human monsters. And if there were evil organizations afoot, wouldn't more people know by now?

But then again, no one seemed to notice the extremely pale woman who had taken to walking the border of the town every night. She kept herself well-covered with a decimated, dirt-smeared coat that had once been puffy and orange. She'd found it on her way to the portal, abandoned by panicked strangers fleeing from the Lost.

Who would believe a story like hers? That she'd been the leader of a village deep within a mountain, untouched by the sun for generations upon generations? And now, she'd stepped into an alien world, a place with a green ground and a blue ceiling that wasn't really a ceiling. Sky, just like she'd seen in the minds of the three reincarnated royals. Waik couldn't forget that. She had to see it again.

She'd covered up the absence of the royals with lies. She told her people that there had been a mistake, that the people who had visited their village were from a neighboring town, pulling a cruel prank. They'd disguised the color of their skin and hair, and the creatures with them were wounded Lost, costumed to look peculiar. There was outrage. There was heartbreak. There was riotous disbelief.

And there was an opportunity to slip away.

So she did. When she reached the cone of the volcano, she found a catastrophe. The scene was quiet, abandoned, so she hoped there had been survivors, and that they'd moved on. She picked her way around the edge to get to the trail leading up. She climbed, unsure of herself, of her choices, her future. Then the Lost that wasn't lost flew past her, carrying something, some _one_. This was normal for the not-royal royals. She wanted to know what it was like to live in a world like theirs, the world she'd seen in their heads.

She saw the blood in the trail, and thought it was all over, that she was too late. But Waik continued forward, because she'd already resolved to leave her previous life behind. By the time she reached the top, Spark and Candela were disappearing into the door. Time stopped for her. The universe as she knew it hung in the balance, and any move she made would be irreversible. The weight of that decision threatened to crush her.

But it didn't. She moved swiftly, but the door was already closing. Waik's body spun for a while through the void, and then the brightest light she'd ever seen blinded her. She lay on something soft, like moss, but not moss. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a blue even more vibrant than the blue of the crystals she had grown up with.

She'd been deposited away from the others, her trajectory altered by the closing portal. She wandered for several weeks, hiding in any dark space she could find while the sun was out, traveling by night. She'd learned the concept of these periods of time from Blanche, Candela, and Spark. She knew no words that could compare.

When Waik finally found Trichroma Town, she could hardly believe her eyes. The diversity of the buildings, the sheer amount of color that flooded her senses… it staggered her. For the first time, it occurred to her that she was the only one who spoke her language here. She'd packed as much food as she could manage, but the lonely weeks had obliterated her supply. She'd have to interact with these up-world humans at some point.

In the meantime, she could resort to thievery, if she had to. No one seemed to see her, after all. She'd do what she had to in order to survive this strange new land, just until she knew what she was doing.

It was odd, but Waik could sense the three would-be royals. Something deep in her brain told her they were nearby, but she hadn't seen them. Not until they entered her territory one night.

She watched them from afar, drawn to the light of their fire amid the thin trees of the forest outside of town. They were laughing and cooking food over the flames. They'd lived. Before then, she wasn't sure they had, despite how near they felt.

They were camping, like they'd done as children. It had been Spark's idea to do it as soon as he was well enough to get away with spending a night in the woods. They'd all needed something to lift their spirits. Their days had been filled with the rehabilitation of the dozens of Team Rocket pokémon they'd saved from the mountain. It was emotionally draining work, but nothing could beat the gratification that came from seeing an mistreated pokémon bond with a loving new trainer.

The trainers didn't know where their new companions had come from, only that they'd been rescued from abusive masters and required special care. Professor Willow had insisted on locking down as much information as possible. The public didn't need to be set into a panic over Team Rocket. Spark had impishly shared part of his story at the bakery once, just to prove his point to the others that no one would believe their tale anyway.

The night was cold and clear, and when the team leaders tilted their heads back, it felt like the stars above were shining just for them.

Waik couldn't know what they were feeling, what they were thinking when they looked to the sky. She didn't know that Blanche found themself frozen in place on some mornings, paralyzed by the knowledge that when their friends had needed them, they had retreated into themself instead. They stared at their reflection for long minutes, wondering what kind of human could abandon their loved ones so easily. They feared that Articuno had revealed a dark and ugly version of themself, and perhaps that selfish, cowardly, saturnine entity was their truest iteration.

Waik didn't know about Spark's dark dreams, how his memories haunted him and refused to let him rest. He told himself the story of his survival over and over, and he still couldn't believe it, even when he touched his fingers to the angry, healing wound in his gut. But it wasn't just the past that plagued him. In his dreams, he saw a darkness growing on the horizon, like the falling of night. Every so often, he would see figures through the veil of sleep and hear distant, whispering voices. _They escaped the mountain,_ the voices would murmur. _Giovanni… what do we do? Is it time?_

Waik didn't know that Candela was starting to remember. When Candela closed her eyes, she saw terrified faces plunging into a shadowy pit. No matter what Spark and Blanche said, she couldn't deny that she sent those people to their deaths. And the worst part? Remembering how good it had felt. _I'll roast her from the inside out,_ she'd said. Because she was ready to burn away the small, weak, wounded person she'd been before. She was ready to succumb to that delicious power, to trade everything for it. She could never let her friends know. What would they think? What would Joule have thought?

Waik knew none of these secrets, but she knew that she couldn't approach the trio now. Something in her heart told her it wasn't the time to reenter their lives. She had a brand new world to explore, and when the time was right, maybe she'd meet them again.

She tightened the coat around her small body and wandered into the night, seeking a new adventure, ready to meet more of the not-Lost. Pokémon. That's what they'd been called before. There was so much to learn.

Back at the fire, Spark lifted his head, listening. Someone was out there, walking between the shadows of trees. He didn't hear footsteps. He simply knew.

"Something wrong, Spark?" Candela asked.

"Nah, nothing," Spark said, grinning and skewering a marshmallow to hold over the flames. Whoever was out there wasn't a threat. Not like the menacing voices in his dreams.

But those dreams weren't really dreams, and those voices belonged to a group of strangers miles and miles away. Men and women in crisp red and black uniforms whispered among themselves about the failed mission into Akanoir Mountain and the missing scientists who had been lost within it. Most thought it was a catastrophe, and they weren't wrong. However, there were some who knew of Team Rocket's ace in the hole.

The Jewel of Team Rocket dwelled apart from the others, near the ruins of an ancient tower. He liked it that way, just him and his golden-plumed companion on the edge of the wild. There was something soothing about living so close to the wilderness from which he'd come. Perhaps he thought living there could help reconnect him with his memories. There had to have been a time in his life when he wasn't in the wild with the great bird, or wasn't under the care of the Rockets, who had welcomed him as a loving family after they found him as a child.

He harbored vague memories of his time in the forest, protected by the huge pokémon with the rainbow feathers. The other Rockets called it Ho-Oh, or the Guardian of the Sky, or the Golden Twin, or sometimes, the Bird of Resurrection. He simply called it a friend.

It had taken his friend quite a while to accept the Rockets, but it had seen how well they cared for the young boy it had salvaged from the edge of oblivion. It watched him grow into a young man among them. The boy's trust had entwined with the bird's spirit. And so, when the grim-faced leader of the Rockets approached the tower, the bird and its boy listened to his request.

"It's time to seek out the beasts."

The Jewel of Team Rocket smiled. His friend had shared thoughts with him about the pokémon it had brought back to life long ago, and he had always wished to see the noble beasts. He didn't know much about the disaster in the Akanoir Mountains, but he did know that whoever had harmed his friends and their pokémon would pay for their cruelty.

He and the Golden Twin would make sure of it.

The Silver Twin, then, had no choice but to intervene.

After the campfire on the outskirts of Trichroma Town had been doused and the lights of the village had all turned low, a lone figure stood outside of his laboratory, shivering in the autumn air. Professor Willow found sleep to be elusive these days. Every time his head hit the pillow, all he could think about was Joan Dillinger. He should have kept closer tabs on her. He knew how dangerous she was, and yet he had continued to treat her more or less amicably over the years. He shouldn't have told her about his assistants.

Hell, it went deeper than that. Willow should never have hired assistants in the first place, or at least not those three. He knew they were special, that they were destined for great things. He knew it couldn't all be coincidence. He couldn't help himself. Maybe if he hadn't invited them into his lab, none of this would have happened.

A dark shape came between Willow and the waxing moon above. He recognized the silhouette instantly. The last time he'd seen it, he had been a young boy, clinging to a battered boat in a stormy sea. He still feared the open water and the fury of storms.

His heart raced and his palms turned slick with sweat, but Willow refused to cower as Lugia landed before him. It wasn't like the other birds, the ones Willow had met on the hospital roof. Though he'd only encountered it once, it was immediately familiar to him. Its eyes bore through him, looking into the corners of his mind.

Lugia seemed satisfied by what it found there. Its vast, hand-like wings carried it back into the sky, and Willow felt in his soul that he'd see the bird again all too soon. It had left behind a message, one that Willow couldn't put into words. A map had been charted within his brain, and he knew it was meant to be shared with his assistants.

The sun would soon rise over the town of secrets. The townsfolk would resume their gossiping. Professor Willow would start another pot of coffee and begin sketching the map with which he'd been entrusted. The leaders would wake up next to each other and listen to the soft hush of their synchronized breathing and the patter of dew dripping on their tent.

They would stay there as the sun climbed higher, bound tightly within their sleeping bags, their noses ice-cold in the autumn morning. Blanche would be the first to rise, tugging at Candela's hair, coaxing her to get up. Spark would grab for them both, urging them to stay just a while longer, but would eventually lose the battle.

Together, they would step into the sunlight of a new day, stronger and wiser than before, and unafraid of the dark.

 **§**

 **AN:** It's done, y'all. I'm so happy that we went on this adventure together! I hope it brought a little sunshine into your life, despite all the darkness. I know writing it and hearing your feedback brought me brightness. I can't thank you enough for your kind words!

Now, I mentioned before that I still have more stories in me for our leaders… I should note that there's a caveat. At first, I was going to give you a big ol' backstory about how I wound up here, and what my motivations were for writing this. I'll sum up: I came from a very dark place, wrote this trio of stories to process some heavy stuff in my quirky brain, and then became addicted to it. I have prioritized writing this over many other things in my life, including writing my own original fiction. I've published one novel, and I want to produce more. I also have been using fanfic as a means of avoiding studying to be a financial planner. I've made myself irrationally anxious about pumping out chapters, when my original purpose was to _reduce_ my anxiety via writing.

So, consider this a season finale. The series will return eventually, but I want to give myself at least a couple months to decompress and come up with a schedule that will make it possible for me to balance my original fiction (I'm Abi G. Douglas on Facebook and Amazon, by the way, if you want to check out my first book, _Necessaries,_ or just be buds or whatevs), my CFP studies, my actual job, my other artsy hobbies/commissions, my political activities, and so on. I'm gonna come up with a reasonable schedule, and will return with FANFARE, but with a slower, more regular pace.

Because I've been waiting a long time to get to the Jewel, Ho-Oh, and Lugia, and I have some big, adventurous plans for our leaders.

Thank you again, everyone, and I hope this story put a little sunshine in your day!


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